


Sugar

by OhNoHello



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charon and Hades' Tense Working Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoHello/pseuds/OhNoHello
Summary: Destitute Hermes is in dire need of some cash. Fast.Charon lives a life of perpetual bachelorhood and needs some arm candy for a family party.Its just one nice night, thats all it is. Nothing more. Right?
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 233
Kudos: 705





	1. An Accessory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarMagister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMagister/gifts).



> So like. . . I know I have a million things going on at once. . . but this brain worm wriggled itself into my brain courtesy of @umichill 
> 
> So like
> 
> Sugar Daddy Charon 
> 
> Sure
> 
> Okay
> 
> Fine
> 
> Why not

The phone buzzed and the screen read a simple 'Z.' Hermes groaned and leaned back, pinching his brow. 

"Hnnnnn," he moaned. "Mmmmmfine. Fine. Okay _fine._ Let's just get this over with." 

He hesitated one more time, his fingers twitching over the phone, before finally answering the call. 

"Hi," he dropped flatly. 

"Hermes, hello," Zeus said in that fake cheerful way he always did. "How is my little son doing?"

Not great, pretty bad actually, not wanting to be patronized to, don’t have the patience for this conversation, _does not want to be called little son!_

Hermes' face scrunched up tighter. 

"Fine," he lied, his voice going high and letting that fact fly free. 

“Good good,” Zeus said, completely missing subtext. As per usual. “And are you still living in that apartment?” 

But his tone asked ‘are you living in that rat hole.’ Hermes took a quick look around his rat hole, a laughably affordable so-called studio apartment. It was a closet with a toilet in one corner and a sink in the other. There was a single hot plate on the spit of linoleum on the floor where Hermes heated up his ramen. His futon was perpetually in bed mode and took up a majority of his meager square footage. He was flopped out on said futon with his head just dangling off the edge, staring at his rat hole upside down. 

“Yup,” Hermes said popping the p. “What do you want?” 

“Is it not that I can just call my son?” Zeus asked. 

“What do you want?” Hermes asked again. 

Zeus clicked a disappointed sigh. 

“We just want to know when you’re going to come back home,” he said. 

We. The family. Up on their mansion on the mountain, lauding under daddy’s money, doing what daddy said, and living the life that daddy paved out for them. It was little wonder that Hermes' mother ran away. Different from his siblings’ mother(s) and one of the many banes of his step mother. 

No. Hermes was _not_ going back home. 

“Mmm pretty much never, I want to say there Zeus,” he said. 

“Would it really pain you so much to call me father?” Zeus asked. 

“Yup!” 

Again another sigh, this time more dramatic, drawn out, beleaguered. His famously quick temper already flaring up as he lost patience with the son that played on it. 

“Well do you need money?” Zeus asked. “You know me and your mother are always happy to provide.” 

_Yes,_ Hermes thought. 

“No,” Hermes said. “First off, she is not my mother. And second, I do not need your blood money, I am doing just fine. In fact better than fine.” 

“In that apartment?” Zeus asked. 

Hermes _really_ regretted picking up the phone. 

“I. Am. Fine,” Hermes insisted one more time. 

At that Zeus went silent. And the conversation was over. 

“You are coming to brunch next weekend,” he commanded. 

“No I’m not,” Hermes sang and hung up the phone before the temper could really flare. It immediately buzzed in his hand again and Hermes let it drop to the floor where it skittered across the matted carpet. 

He had lost his job. Well one of his jobs. One of his three jobs. It wasn’t his fault he got tired and was caught sleeping on the job. Stretched so thin like that just to make ends meet, he had little time for actual sleep. Which was a shame. He actually liked working in the warehouse. It was grossly underpaid but there was something about running back and forth that was positively stimulating. Being constantly on the move like that was right up his wheelhouse. 

All he had left was the delivery job and that one was on slippery waters with his old bike. And the mover job was far too inconsistent to properly get what he was needed. 

Still. Better than a desk job. He didn’t want to go back to that. 

Hermes rubbed his fingers into his temples, listening to his phone buzz again. 

He needed that third job. His super had hiked up the rent and if he wanted to eat he wasn’t going to make it that month. He needed new running shoes and a new bike. He needed a new futon mattress for his aching back. He wanted a new phone where he could get off his family’s phone plan. He wanted a better apartment.

He wanted at least one nice thing for himself. 

He needed money. 

Hermes slid further off the bed and his head thunked against the floor. The phone buzzed against his hair and for a moment it felt nice. It went silent and still before the screen flashed that he had a voice mail. Probably some rage induced tirade sitting fat and plump in his inbox with all the rest. 

Hermes mulled over what he could do. 

He’d have to go to the job boards again, put his scant resume out there. There was only so much he could do with a BA in linguistics. He did have a multitudinous skill set. Jack of all trades and master of none, a quick study, a quick worker, and a hard worker. 

It would be hard to get something other than data entry and he’d have to get lucky. 

Hermes scanned over the room and what little belongings he had. He had no more to sell. Everything he had brought from ‘home’ was already gone and all he had left was his blanket. 

He could take up gig work, work on commission. Just another inconsistent income. He had sold his computer to make last month's rent and he was pretty sure the pawn shop ripped him off. The thought of working out of the public library was just as appealing as being chained to a desk in a cubicle farm. 

He could sell drugs. Hermes didn’t know where he could start there. Did he just find a seller and ask to be a part of their operation? Or would he have to grow his own? Who had time for that? 

He could steal. From the old man again if necessary. That just felt like another way of relying on Zeus and that more than anything put a bad taste in Hermes’ mouth. 

Hermes rolled over on his futon and picked up his phone. He pressed play. 

_”How dare you hang up on me young man! You ungrateful, spoiled–”_

Hermes pressed delete. 

Not for the first time, he toyed with the notion of going. . . home. Not home. To the house. Where his father lived. 

The big empty palace where he was constrained, where he had no room to run, where he had no choice. Where he had a nice big room filled with his nice things. Where he had gold and clothes and status. Where he had a car that would go faster and faster and faster. Where he had a constant array of designer running shoes that he blew through with startling efficiency. Where he had to pick just one thing and only one thing to do with his life and never change. Where he would go into the family business just like his brothers and sisters.

Hollow and empty and alone. 

Hermes wasn’t that desperate. 

His stomach gurgled and he thought about his empty pantry. He had just enough money to stock up on some beans and rice and that would fuel him for a week, maybe two if he stretched it out. He thought of rice and beans and missed the nice things he used to have. 

Hermes dragged himself from his futon, face first onto the floor, until he found it within himself to get up. He looked into his empty pantry and found a single packet of ketchup. He snorted to himself. 

With no job and no money, Hermes had little to do in that moment. An idle Hermes was a bad Hermes. He needed to keep moving, keep having something to do, something to fill up the spaces in between sleep. 

He pulled out his phone and booted up the dating app. Maybe a quick hook up would take his mind off things. He looked to see who was in the area and who would be willing to host. There was no way he was going to have someone over to his rat hole. Nobody needed to see that. Nobody needed to ever know how he lived.

As he swiped through the pictures of mediocre people, the idea of prostitution entered his mind. He laughed at that one. It was an idea, he knew he was a looker, but he wasn’t sure he had the patience for a bad client. Plus, prostitution was far too close to becoming his father for his liking, thank you very much. 

As a joke, he opened up his profile and put in a quick line. 

_looking for sugar daddy ;)_

“Ha,” Hermes said, amused at his own humor. And for good measure, he said again “Ha!” 

He shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his blown out running shoes. Maybe a quick half marathon around the park would take his mind off things. 

____

There was an actual invitation. Printed out on thick cardstock with gold embossed calligraphy, the two names to be forever intertwined, extending a cordial invitation to a Mr Charon Chthonic, plus one. Dress code optional, but Charon already knew it would be on the formal side. 

His eyes dully slid up to his mother across the table from him. 

“Its for your brother,” she said. “You should at least attend for him.” 

The sun beat down hot on the back of Charon’s neck. His skin was delicate and he knew he’d burn up quickly. His long hair would do nothing to protect it. It was why he had brought his hat in the first place, but he had been told it was impolite to wear a hat inside, even if ‘inside’ was outdoor seating. The ice in his water clinked and he felt his hand itch to go for his cigarettes. 

Damn her, playing on his weakness like that. He had managed to avoid the invitation when it had been mailed to him, feigning ignorance of its existence. He had promised his mother he would put the event on his calendar, secretly hoping that some fire would crop up and work and would be unable to attend. But he had no such luck. 

Nyx had cornered him. She had slid the invitation across the table and Charon was forced to physically look at it for the first time. 

Thanatos’ engagement to the short man he had brought around last Christmas. Despite himself, Charon found he liked Zagreus and had slipped him a little extra Christmas present as a sort of unofficial welcome to the family. That should have been enough. He didn’t need to be wrangled into the family gathering to celebrate it. 

“He would love it if you came,” Nyx said, speaking for Thanatos. 

She knew. She knew that invoking any of his siblings’ wants and needs would send him running. He glared at her and pocketed the invitation with a huff. 

“Thank you, Charon,” she said and the grateful smile only made the spite twist all the more in his chest. 

They fell into their usual silence, the one that followed Charon around. It was awkward for most people, the way he let conversations drop, the way he didn’t respond to most things that they said. Nyx had grown used to it but from time to time he would see her shift uncomfortably or clear her throat. From the way she would ask how he was doing and he’d only respond with a nod or a grunt and not return the question in kind. 

He waited for the inevitable uncomfortable conversation to start up and hoped the food would come out before she could. He looked out over the sidewalk and pretended to scan the crowd, leaning against his fist. 

“Has work kept you busy?” she asked. 

Charon closed his eyes. He knew where this was going. 

“Hmm,” he grunted. 

“Are you getting out?” she asked. “Meeting people?” 

Charon didn’t dignify that with an answer. He shouldn’t have to. He knew what she was getting at and did not want to go through this again. 

“Maybe you can bring someone along with you,” she suggested. “A date perhaps?” 

Lunch chose that moment to arrive. He turned his focus on his extremely dead fish, a single glassy eye staring up at him and reflecting his own miserable disdain. The two of them equally as happy to be sitting at that table. He went for his silverware and promptly ignored his mother. 

“I worry for you Charon,” she said, disregarding her own salad. “You are the oldest of your brothers and sisters and yet you are all alone.” 

Charon drove his knife down hard enough to clink against the ceramic and jangle his bracelet. He went through the meticulous process of picking out pin bones, his mouth skewed into a frown and hoping it came off as concentration. 

“At this rate, Hypnos will be married long before you are.” She laughed at her own joke, but it died when she saw she was alone. “Charon. I don’t want you to be alone like this. And at your age. . . Charon.” 

She reached out and placed a delicate hand over his, slowly lowering his loaded fork back to the table and garnering his attention. He finally looked up at her, sunken eyes boring directly into her own. His intense gaze never seemed to affect his mother, not even when he was a child, silent as the grave. Nyx accepted him for who he was. 

“I would feel better if you met someone. Someone to share your life with,” she said, her voice just as precise and careful as it always was. “Its getting to a point where you can no longer wait for someone to come along and you need to take a proactive role. I know your job is demanding, but you must make time for yourself now and again, right?” 

It came from a place of empathy, he knew that. 

Charon just didn’t want to hear it. 

He listlessly glared at his mother, silently reminding her that this was the reason they had grown so apart. Her own work had occupied her time, had pushed away his father, and pushed away him. Nyx had taught him responsibility and diligence, not romance and companionship. 

His work was his time to himself. 

“I’m not saying you have to find someone for your brother’s party,” she continued. “But it would put my mind at ease if there was someone at your side.” 

At that, Charon deflated. He looked off to the side, to the people walking down the street, to the handsome couple who stood arm in arm. It had played on his mind now and again, just when Nyx brought it up, how alone he was. He told himself he preferred it that way, resolute and happy in his solitude and quiet. But in vulnerable moments, the idea crept into his mind what it would be like to have someone to share his life with, to wake up with another person and have them hold him in his arms. 

He took his hand out from under Nyx’s and ate his lunch. 

She sighed, giving up. 

“Have you spoken with your sisters lately?” she asked. “Do you know if they’re coming?” 

He did. Nemesis said she would. Eris hemmed and hawed about it, but he knew she’d give in in the end. Just like he would. They were weak for their little brothers. 

Charon let the conversation slip to other things, listening to Nyx’s quiet tone list Thanatos’ latest triumphs, how his new job was going. She went on about Hypnos working under her firm and how she was trying to let him find his own way. It seemed to be working. All things he wanted to hear. 

She managed to pry out of him what few details he had to share, but it was mostly his life as a hedge fund manager and he could see her eyes glaze over as she smiled and nodded. 

When lunch was over, Charon paid for the meal, despite Nyx’s protests. He put his hat back on to protect himself from the offense of the sun. Stress made him go for a cigarette and he lit up as he waited for his car. 

____

“Listen. Why are you even applying for this job?” 

Hermes sat across from the big man with a big fake smile plastered to his face. He fought against the struggle to sit still, his hands fidgeting and folding over and over in his lap. He was dressed in the last tie he had, his shirt untucked, and he wore his shitty sneakers. He wondered if that was maybe the reason Sisyphus was asking that question, that Hermes looked like enough of a scrub that he wasn’t good enough for even this crappy personal assistant job. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hermes asked as politely as he could. 

Sisyphus sighed and set Hermes’ resume down on the table. He folded his hands together. 

“You’re clearly overqualified for this job,” he said. “Why are you even trying to get it?” 

Oh. Hermes hadn’t expected that. He glanced out the window real quick, dying to be outside where he could run away and scream. 

“I guess I’m looking for a new opportunity, you know,” he said. “A new path, and this job seemed pretty interesting. I mean how could I pass up the chance to work as a personal assistant to a CEO of his very own stone and granite company. I mean, I just really love . . . countertops?” 

Hermes had really tried not to babble. He tried to reign it in. Interviews brought out the absolute worst in him. 

Sisyphus gave Hermes a bland but sympathetic look, not buying a second of it. He had such a light voice, Hermes had been anticipating a waif of a man and was surprised to find the hulking giant before him. Bouldy Operations was a relatively new company. The second Hermes took a step in the building, he knew something was sketchy about it, but he was desperate and didn’t mind a little bit of sketch in his life. Sisyphus seemed pleasant enough and Hermes could see himself working for the man. 

At a desk. 

Doing menial tasks. 

Hermes dropped the smile and leaned across the table, resting his head against his hand. 

“Okay. You got me,” he said. “I have absolutely no interest in whatever it is you do here. I just need the job. I need the money. And it seems like I could do it real real easy. I know I’m a hard worker and whatever you throw at me I can do, I promise you that. But I need the work so please. Pretty please? Give me a job.” 

The desperation should have annoyed Sisyphus, but the man was nothing but amicable. He smiled sweetly and Hermes knew instantly that he wasn’t going to get the job. 

“You don’t need this,” he said. “You can do better than this.” 

Hermes deflated in his seat. This time when he looked out the window his eyes stayed there. His mouth worked to the side in a half pout. 

“You just have to keep searching and eventually the right opportunity will come to you,” Sisyphus said. “You’ll find your place where you’ll be fulfilled. Don’t settle for a personal assistant job.” 

Hermes knew what that meant and he didn’t blame the man. He didn’t want to hire some kid who would get bored after three months and then up and leave without a moment's notice. Who was he kidding, one month. Sisyphus could read a situation and did not want to be doing this dance all over again in a matter of weeks. 

“But I need the money,” Hermes mumbled. 

“Chin up young man,” Sisyphus said, standing to his feet. Hermes joined him, getting up with less gusto than the giant. “You’ll find that special something one day.” 

He held out his hamhock of a hand and it practically crushed Hermes’ own when he shook it. He clapped Hermes on the back and Hermes lurched forward from the force of it. 

“Or you could always start your own company,” he laughed, jovial at his own suggestion. 

Hermes walked out of the complex, loosening his boring standard tie as he did. He mulled over the idea of starting his own company, but wasn’t sure what he would even do. What would occupy his mind, keep him moving, keep him interested? If it involved travel and new and shiny things then he would jump on the chance the second it arose. 

That was worth looking into, he supposed. 

He clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone, ticking that job off the list. And it was so promising too, flying through the phone interview like that only to trip and stumble at the finish line. He scrolled through the job board, looking for something he hadn’t yet applied to, ready to send his resume out like a blunderbuss. 

When a push notification flashed on his phone. 

Hermes frowned at it. It was from the dating app. He hadn’t flagged himself open for a hook up, not while he was in the middle of an interview and two neighborhoods away from his own. Who was even looking at that time of day anyways? 

Hermes paused at that. He would look at that time of day. 

He sighed and opened up the app to see what kind of idiot was messaging him. 

_Hello._

_I need a date for a party._

____

It was a last resort. 

Nyx’s words wormed into Charon’s brain like a persistent cancer. Not the fear of being alone, but that she brought it up at all. Memories of the last family gathering and the one before that and the one before that played on repeat in Charon’s head. Being cornered and asked time and time again when he would find someone. He could only imagine how much worse it would be at an engagement party. He could already hear it. 

_What about you Charon?_

_And when are you going to get married?_

_Have you found anyone yet?_

With humor, like it was a joke. Or worse, with insistence and impatience, with another reference to Charon’s ever increasing age. As if he didn’t know. 

There were only so many times that he could shrug, give an excuse, or simply just walk away from the conversation. He was already the black sheep of the family, he didn’t need to have that point driven home further. 

Charon knew he’d be cornered into some conversation or another, even if it wasn’t about his perpetual bachelorhood. He’d be patient and listen, but eventually expected to speak. He was looking forward to that least of all. 

He barely wanted to go to these things in the first place. Work hadn’t given him an excuse. He half hoped he would come down with something and suddenly couldn’t make it. He had spent a brief moment looking down his stairs, contemplating letting himself just fall down them, just to get out of his brother’s party. 

He knew he was being ridiculous. 

Charon smoothed his suit out on the bed, looking down at it, specifically designed for him. A beautiful affair of sweeping dark fabric tinged with gold. Not particularly ostentatious, not enough to stand out, but enough that he would look imposing, would reflect his own personal wealth. He would wear his bracelets and his necklace, as he always did, and the coins clinked together when he walked. No amount of commentary from Hypnos would ever deter him. 

If only he could wear his hat indoors. 

Charon looked over his outfit and pondered. An idea curdled in the back of his brain. Another accessory he could add to his outfit that would stop all those pestering questions in their tracks. A person at his side. Thats all it would take. One look at a poor individual who would be saddled with Charon for just a single evening and his family might be satisfied. 

The party was in a few hours. He had no inner social circle to ask. Hell, he didn’t have an outer social circle to ask. The idea was stupid. 

Charon was going to do it anyways. 

Charon pulled out his phone and quickly pulled up a dating app that Eris had forcibly installed nearly a year ago. He hadn’t opened it since. The picture she had put in his profile had been quickly snapped, his hat covering up most of his face and an angry sneer on his lips. It was a bare bones profile, stating simply that he was looking for anyone. He came off as hopelessly desperate, but Charon didn’t have it in him to care. 

Using the app for the first time was not an entirely difficult experience. The program was pretty intuitive. He had to swipe through pictures and try to find someone who suited his fancy. He treated it like shopping for an accessory, someone to match him. Just another bangle on his arm. 

He flipped through photos one at a time. No. No. Definitely no. Too smiley, not smiley enough, Nyx would disapprove of that one, that one looks like they’d just embarrass Charon, that one looks like they would say no. And what in the even hell was that person?

Charon sat down on his bed, frowning at his phone. He leaned into his hand, his fingers running through his hair and and making it stick up at odd angles. Why was this so hard? Charon knew he was particular, but he just needed a person, any person, to pretend to be his significant other for a night. 

He resigned himself to picking the next attractive person that crossed his screen, ready to swipe again, when he paused. 

The picture was blurred, like the selfie was taken far too quickly, but the details were still there. A broad smile, like he was mid laugh, eyes scrunched up in humor. He had tanned skin that looked like he spent his life in the sun, the exact opposite of Charon’s own sensitive pallor. Dark hair was slicked back on his head, but it stuck up haphazardly in places and gave him a rakish sort of appeal. An array of earrings ran up his ears, swaying with the in motion action of the photo. 

Charon clicked into his profile. 

It was a lengthy read with far too much information that at the same time told Charon nothing. A runner, a linguist, an entrepreneur. He was educated and humorous and seemed like the kind of person that got along with everyone. 

The kind of person that would fit right into a party setting. 

The very bottom of the profile was a single statement. 

_looking for sugar daddy ;)_

Charon’s brows rose at that one. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, but that certainly made things a little more interesting. The idea of convincing a random stranger to come to his brother’s engagement party seemed like a challenge. Charon wasn’t a particularly good conversationalist when it came to social interactions, but a business-like transaction? That he could do. 

He opened a message to speak directly with this Hermes. 

**Charon:** _Hello._

**Charon:** _I need a date for a party._

Hermes was quick to respond. 

**Hermes:** _lol wut?_

 **Charon:** _I have to go to a party this evening and I can’t show up alone._

 **Charon:** _Come with me._

He sounded desperate and pathetic. 

**Hermes:** _what kind of party_

 **Charon:** _My brother is getting engaged._

 **Hermes:** _people have parties for that?_

 **Charon:** _Yes._

This didn’t seem to be going well. Charon was getting ready to go back to the swiping mine. 

**Hermes:** _what kind of party is it_

 **Hermes:** _house party? bbq? is there gonna be a pinata?_

This was a mistake. Charon should back down, should just suck it up and go alone. But he kept going. 

**Charon:** _Its in a hotel ballroom._

 **Hermes:** _ah so a fancy party_

For the next few seconds, three dots danced next to Hermes’ name as he typed, erased, typed again. Probably figuring out the best way to say no. 

_looking for sugar daddy ;)_ his profile had said.

 **Charon:** _I can compensate you._

 **Charon:** _For your troubles._

The dots disappeared and Hermes went silent. The silence in Charon’s home was suddenly deafening, weighing down on his shoulders. 

**Hermes:** _im not a prostitute_

 **Charon:** _Consider it a nice night out. I’ll treat you._

Hermes went silent again. Charon stared down that smile picture, holding his phone out, and slightly blurred. Charon could be a. . . sugar daddy. For one night. 

**Hermes:** _ya sure im not doing anything better rn lol could be fun_

Charon let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He went for his cigarettes. 

**Hermes:** _i dont have anything to wear_

 **Charon:** _Thats no problem. I can have something sent up. What are your measurements?_

 **Hermes:** _haha weird ur a bit of a freak huh? ;)_

Charon huffed out a small laugh at that, lighting up a cigarette and blowing out the smoke. The cloud puffed around his head. He was too amused at Hermes’ brazenness to be offended. 

**Hermes:** _ok looks like u got a hot date for the night wuts ur address? ill be right over_

As simple as that, Charon had his accessory.


	2. A Perfect Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerves didn’t truly set in until Charon got the text. 
> 
> _im here_
> 
> For some reason that made it real. For some reason it solidified what was happening. That a person Charon did not know was going to come into his home at his invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup okay. I just. . . pounded this shit out in a day. It's official. Foaming at the mouth. Rattling my cage. It's midnight here and I just have no patience for this story to sit fat and squat in my head. Just gotta cut it open and bleed out on to the page and then I'll be done. 
> 
> RIP my other WIPs 
> 
> Anyways heavy cues were taken from feral in crime umi
> 
> [LOOK AT THESE HANSUM MEN](https://twitter.com/Umichill/status/1329175210503835648)

Nerves didn’t truly set in until Charon got the text. 

_im here_

For some reason that made it real. For some reason it solidified what was happening. That a person Charon did not know was going to come into his home at his invitation. It wasn’t a real date, but for some odd reason it almost felt like one. Charon paused in his foyer to look in the mirror and smooth down his hair. He stopped, clicked his tongue in disdain at his own actions, and put his hat on instead. It was his house, he could do what he liked. 

There was a knock on the door, three sharp _tap tap tap_ s that drummed in quick succession. With one last smooth down of his shirt and a quick clearing of his throat, Charon opened the door. 

“That might have been the longest elevator ride I’ve ever been on. And I don’t mean long as in it took forever, oh no, that thing shot up like a rocket, I think my ears popped. You should have warned me you live in the clouds. What is this, the top floor or something?” 

Hermes both did and did not look like his pictures. 

There had been two more photos hidden within Hermes’ profile. They weren’t the fuzzed over selfie of the first one, but more in focus. One was of Hermes at some sort of social gathering, an outing among friends. He was sandwiched between two people, holding a drink in his hand, the same broad smile on his face. Although it was less mid laugh and more posed, it looked nonetheless genuine. 

The third photo was something else entirely. Charon supposed that was the point of the site, to find partners that they were mutually attracted to. Hermes had taken a photo of himself in a bathroom mirror. His shirt was off to reveal a well sculpted body, just as tanned as his face had been. He wore shorts low on his hips, a thumb cocked into the band to pull them just barely within dignity. 

Charon promptly closed the app after that. 

The photos only barely reflected the man before him. He held the fernetic energy of his profile picture, the congeniality of the second, and if the way his shirt sat on his body was to be believed, everything he advertised in the third. He was short. A lot of people were shorter than Charon, most people in fact, but Hermes seemed to be below average height. By no means petite, instead possessing a stocky build with an obvious strength behind it. 

Charon scanned the man before him, assessing him for approval, but Hermes was far too occupied to notice. 

He leaned to the side to look around Charon and into his apartment. He let out a low whistle and invited himself right on inside, walking through the open door and right past Charon. 

“Damn, you live here?” Hermes asked. “Actually live here? _Live_ live here?”

Charon kept his eyes on his intruding guest and quietly closed his door. 

He had picked his home for its grandeur. A top floor corner penthouse that overlooked the city like a king. Sweeping black marble floors and high ceilings with carefully painted filigree crown molding. There were large columns that were completely unnecessary and a large spiraling staircase that went to his second floor bedroom suite. Just beyond his foyer was a kitchen he never used, a fireplace he seldom used, and a piano that was purely for show. Extensive floor to ceiling tinted windows simultaneously let in light and protected him from it, giving him a sweeping view of the city and her great river. And everywhere there were accents of gold. Naturally. 

Hermes half skipped to the windows, looking for the world like he was floating across the floor. He looked out over the vista with more curiosity and less awe. 

“Damn. Damn damn damn. And here I thought I came from money,” he said, more to himself than anything. He spun to look over his shoulder to aim that sunbeam smile at Charon. “And you just, what? Live here all by yourself?” 

Charon nodded solemnly and joined Hermes at the window. He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it over. Hermes’ brows rose and Charon's job title. 

“Ah, so earned. Not inherited,” he said. 

Charon nodded again. 

“Wow,” Hermes said, eyes wide and grin cocked to the side. It was terribly endearing on him. “You seem a little young to have earned all this. Good for you. Tell me your secrets.” 

That one took Charon by surprise. He was used to comments on his age and how old he was getting. Even when he was a child he was described as mature, older, wise beyond his years if the person was feeling generous. Young had never been used to describe to him. 

“And way better looking than your photo, you should think about updating that.” Hermes punctuated it with a wink. 

Charon blamed the sun through his windows for the heat on his face. Hermes laughed. Charon didn’t know what he was anticipating, but Hermes had a nice, pleasant laugh. 

“Aw, he blushes,” Hermes cooed. 

Charon huffed and looked away. Hermes took that to mean he could continue his self guided tour of the apartment, skipping down to where the piano was. He ran his fingers over the keys, tapping out an atonal scale up the whites. 

His eyes travelled over the display shelving between neat rows of books and the velvet backer boards that held nearly a hundred priceless coins. Charon’s prized possessions. Years upon years of work to collect them all. Hermes reached out to touch the crowning jewel, a gold greek obol that sat prominent in the center. 

Charon snatched Hermes' his wrist to stop him, groping it in a tight hold. It might have been painful, but Hermes was unsurprised and unperturbed. He merely smiled up at Charon, as if the attack was playful.

“So why do you need a date anyways?” Hermes asked. “You said you can’t go to this shindig alone. Is someone forcing you to bring a date or something?” 

Charon let go of Hermes’ wrist and shook his head. 

“Do you _want_ a date?” Hermes asked, laughter bubbling under his words. 

Charon shook his head again. 

Hermes paused, a smile frozen on his face. He looked around the penthouse again, really taking in the details. Charon could see the wheels turning in his head and suddenly questioned who exactly it was that he gotten himself entangled with. 

“You need a _fake_ date for this thing, does that sound right?” 

The boy was clever. Either that or Charon was obvious. Probably both.

Charon nodded. 

“So what kind of fake date are we talking here?” Hermes asked, taking a stalking step closer, hands folded behind his back. “Is this a make someone jealous kind of fake date or don’t want to show up alone kind of fake date?” 

Charon didn’t quite know how to explain it. He opened his mouth, taking in a breath, before closing it again. He looked off to the side, brows furrowed, and rotated his hand in the air. 

“A ‘get someone off your back’ kind of fake date?” Hermes tried. 

Charon pointed at him and nodded. 

“Alright then,” Hermes said. He took another hop skip, moving closer to the kitchen. “Not exactly what I had been planning on doing with my day, but this is way more interesting than anything else I could come up with. I’m gonna say it again, Charon my friend, you. Are a freak.” 

Charon laughed under his breath. Hearing it in person rang different. Outside of Hypnos, Charon was rarely teased, and even then it was with a hint of hesitation. 

Hermes has no such reservations it seemed. 

The little man slid around his kitchen island, letting one hand trail up and over the waterfall granite. He helped himself to the fridge, opening the door to look inside. 

There was another polite knock at his door, this one far more formal and missing the frantic raps Hermes' had. Hermes poked his head up from behind the fridge in curiosity. Charon crossed his room in quick strides and opened the door. 

“Your order sir?” 

The handsomely dressed gentleman had probably rushed over but not a hair was out of place, the perfect picture of professionalism. He was guiding a clothing rack with an array of outfits that were obviously too small to fit Charon. 

Charon dug out his wallet to tip the delivery man. As if lead by some base instinct, he leaned forward a little to look into Charon’s apartment. Hermes waved from the kitchen. Charon quickly pulled in the clothing rack and closed the door. 

“Did you order that?” Hermes asked, shutting the fridge door too quick and too loud. “I sent you my sizes like maybe half an hour ago and now you have just this. . .” 

He waved his hands at the array of clothes. They were Charon’s usual subdued choice of colors and fabrics. Looking them over just then, Charon wasn’t sure they suited Hermes. He plucked a white button down from the rack and held it up his date's chest. 

“Do they just stand at the ready for you or something?” Hermes asks. “I thought I was quick but that was crazy quick. What else can you order and it’ll just show up? Can we test this out?” 

Charon hummed under his breath and went for a different shirt in a creamier shade of white, made of smooth silk, and complemented by pale buttons. That worked better. A pair of dark grey slacks went with the shirt nicely. Charon went for a matching jacket, but Hermes leaned in to beat him to the punch. He stepped right into Charon’s personal space, looking Charon dead in the eyes, a smug smile on his lips. The rack squeaked as he picked up a vest rather than the sport coat. He folded the article over his arm, all while maintaining that intense eye contact with Charon. 

“Do you have a place for me to change?” he asked, quiet but no less quick. “Or am I just going to have to get naked right here?” 

Charon held out his hand in the direction of his guest room. Hermes gave one last lingering look as he turned to the room. His sneaker squeaked against the marble and Charon's eyes snapped to the raggedy shoes. At one point they might have been white. He snapped his fingers twice, getting Hermes’ attention, and pointed to the offending footwear. 

“Oh yeah right,” Hermes said, peeling the half dead sneakers off. “Yeah these probably won’t look very good would they.” 

Hermes exchanged them for a handsome shining pair of dress shoes. 

“Am I going to get those back?” Hermes asked. 

Charon simply held up the shoes and gave Hermes a dull look that basically read _’are you sure you_ want _these back?’_

“Point,” Hermes said and headed to the guest room. 

He closed the door, but left a crack open. Charon leaned against a wall and fished his cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped the carton and popped one out. 

“So who exactly are you trying to get off your back with this whole charade?” Hermes asked, muted by the door and under a rustle of clothing. “Not that I’m not for it, I can understand wanting to shut a family member or two up now and again. Never hit up some rando to pretend we’re going out to do it though.” 

Charon lit his cigarette without answering the question. He was content to let Hermes ramble, glad that he could fill up the empty spaces that Charon left open. 

“What is it then? You just like your space or something? Are you going to just do this every time you have to look a family member in the eye and tell them ‘hey, I really do have someone to schtup, stop worrying about my love life?’ Just this rotating cast of pretty people you pick up on a hook up app? Thats going to be real convincing.” 

Hermes’ laughter came hand in hand with his running dialogue. Charon blew out a fine line of smoke. 

“Hey,” Hermes said, a little more seriously. “How long have we been dating? That seems like a need to know.” 

Charon hadn’t really considered the fine details. He figured he’d just show up with Hermes, have that be all the evidence anyone would need. Nyx had been concerned for him a few weeks ago, but Charon wasn’t sure he’d bring someone he was dating for only a few weeks to present to his family. But he did think it was believable that he wouldn’t tell his family he was dating, preferring to keep his secrets. 

Picking a number arbitrarily, he stuck three fingers into the door. 

“Three years?” Hermes asked incredulously. 

Charon pointed down. 

“Three weeks?” 

Charon pointed up. 

“Ah three months.” Hermes seemed satisfied with that. The sound of a zipper punctuated it. “Thats a good healthy number I think. Roughly about the time when a relationship goes from casual to a little less casual. A good ‘bring the little man round to meet the folks’ time.” 

Hermes stepped out from the guest room, fully dressed in the clothes Charon had picked out for him. A far cry from the ill fitting button down and untied necktie he had come in with. It accented his body nicely, outlining his figure. The vest was a deep purple, almost near black, that gleamed gold in the right light. Exactly Charon’s style. Highlighting the very nature of Hermes’ accessory status. 

Charon pulled a belt off the rack and handed it over. 

“Not that I need it,” Hermes snorted. “The pants are just a _little_ too tight.” 

He twisted in place to show off his legs and backside. They were in fact _too tight_. Hermes’s build was muscular, but it seemed most of his power was in a pair of shapely legs. Charon vaguely remembered a note of Hermes being a runner and it seemed to be more than casual. 

“Don’t worry,” Hermes laughed and looped the belt onto the pants. “I think they show off my best assets. Wouldn't you agree?” 

Charon’s stare had gone on for just a beat too long and he flicked his eyes back to Hermes’. Hermes grinned knowingly. Charon only released a puff of smoke as an answer to _that_. 

“Thats a bad habit you know,” Hermes said. 

Charon offered a cigarette. 

“No not for me.” Hermes tapped his chest. “Got to keep the ole lungs nice and pink. I need them in tip top shape so I can actually breathe.” 

Charon tasted the judgement under the ash and put out his cigarette. Rather than respond, he breezed past Hermes to his staircase, plodding up step by step to his bedroom. When he came back down, Hermes was once again in front of his coin collection, maintaining a respectful distance and examining each one. At Charon’s reappearance, Hermes picked up a photo. 

“Which one is getting hitched?” Hermes asked. 

It was a picture of a family outing, just Charon and his siblings. A sunny day with a hike along a shaded trail. They stood in a group, Charon towering over his younger family like a protective beacon. 

He pointed to Thanatos, his finger tapping the glass a little too hard. Hermes looked at his brother in mild amusement. 

“I think I’m starting to see why your family might be bugging you,” he said. 

“Hnnnrr,” Charon grumbled. He pulled the tie off his arm with too much force and it sang against his sleeve. 

“Hey I’m on your side,” Hermes said. “Do whatever you want with your life, I’m not going to judge. You have me in your corner at least.” 

Charon huffed and placed a gentle finger to Hermes’ chin. He tilted his head up slowly to reveal a long thick neck and popped Hermes’ collar up. With careful consideration, he slid the tie under the collar and began a simple windsor knot. It was a garish orange affair, glinting lighter in the sun, the same way his vest did. Charon had never worn it himself, but the pop of color seemed to go with what little Charon knew of Hermes' personality. 

Hermes simply let Charon do what he will, his eyes still drifting around the apartment and then eventually Charon himself. Charon felt the scrutiny, as if he were under a microscope. The way Hermes assessed him was of a different quality than he was used to. Not the matronly concern of Nyx or the obvious intimidation from his peers. A question that Hermes was looking for an answer to. 

Charon lifted Hermes’ hand and slipped a gold watch onto his wrist. He fastened it in place with a click and that seemed to solidify their predicament. 

Hermes examined the watch, listening to it _tick tick tick._ The slow tilt of his head to look back up at Charon was unnatural on him. 

“This is about the sugar daddy thing I wrote on my profile, isn’t it?” he asked. 

Charon hesitated. Then nodded. 

There was that scrutiny again, that exploration over Charon’s face. 

“I have rent,” he said. 

This time, without hesitation, Charon nodded. Hermes blinked at that, looking surprised. 

“Just like that?” he asked. “You don’t even want to know how much?” 

Charon picked at a bit of fluff on Hermes’ shoulder and smoothed the fabric out, petting Hermes like a prized pet and perfecting the image before him. He shrugged a little. 

A satisfied grin split Hermes’ face. 

“Well then, shall we go?” Hermes said. “Daddy.” 

____

Hermes hadn’t had any expectations and yet still Charon managed to curb them. He had been greeted at the door by a tower of a man, a contradiction of gaunt and built at the same time. Deep set eyes stared unblinking down at Hermes without any judgement. At first Hermes assumed that Charon thought himself far too good for the whole affair, but as their little encounter unfolded, he read it as curiosity. Trying to figure out Hermes and who he was. 

Hermes fiddled with the watch Charon had put on his wrist. The whole thing had been a joke, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that there was someone out there who took it seriously. And it was odd, to be trussed up and treated like that, but for one night Hermes supposed he would just have to endure. 

The whole car ride over, Hermes talked. 

“The Super X Force 1 is by far the best decision you could possibly make, if you want to stay boring and safe, but if I’m going to drop money like that I would rather get something a little lighter, you know? Something that could go around tight corners and pick up high speeds. TCX Advanced Pro 2 would be my go to.” 

Hermes had been going on about bicycles for a good 15 minutes as they sat in traffic. Charon hadn’t even asked. They got in the car and Hermes had said ‘hey you wanna know whats a good bike’ and took off without waiting for an answer. 

“If you want to get from point A to point B with maximum efficiency, you want a bike light enough that you can lift over your head. In my opinion–”

Hermes stopped mid sentence when it sunk in. He was doing it again. Dominating the conversation as he always did. It had been sometime since he’d last done that. Having foregone actual dating and socializing in favor of working and overtime, Hermes realized he was pent up. Years of hearing his family tell him time and time again that he talked too much reared its ugly head, tamping him back down.

Charon hadn’t said a word. Not even the polite _hmm_ s to signal that he was still listening, even when he wasn’t. 

He glanced from the road to Hermes. He had been a perfect driver with both hands at 10 and 2, but he let go of the wheel to roll his wrist in Hermes’ direction, signalling him to continue. 

“. . . in my opinion the lighter the– Hey listen,” Hermes said. “I know I can go on a lot and if you let me I’ll just keep talking about whatever comes to mind first so let me know if you need me to shut up okay? Say the word and I can be as silent as the grave.”

Sitting in parking lot style traffic, Charon could really fixate on Hermes. He looked to his date out of the corner of his eye. And slowly rolled his wrist again, driving home the unspoken point. 

Hermes was silent at the permission. A small giddy wave crawled up from his stomach and the gold links of his watch crinkled together as he played with it. All resulting in a wide smile. 

“Anyways,” he said, picking up speed again. “The lighter the better so that you can _really_ manhandle it and hopefully, if you’re lucky, don’t crash the damn thing.” 

For the rest of the ride, Hermes jumped from cycling to music to food to anything his little heart desired. Charon didn’t contribute, but he didn’t ignore Hermes either. He had his nods, his scathing looks of disagreement, an occasional hum of contemplation. 

It was all so very comfortable. 

The hotel had valet and just before they got out of the car, Hermes turned to Charon. 

“Show time,” he said with a quick wink. 

Charon snorted and stepped out of the car. 

He dressed like wealth. In near blacks lined with gold and a high collar, Charon wore his suit coat resting over his shoulders like a cape, leaving the sleeves empty. Adorned in gold, a necklace, bracelets, rings, and all of it clacked gently as he moved. He walked in smooth brisk strides and Hermes was quick to step up to the tall man’s side. Charon seemed only slightly surprised at his appearance and a little more so when Hermes dug his hand into Charon’s jacket to hold Charon’s elbow. Charon shook his head in amusement and together they ascended the staircase to the ballroom. 

Hermes had been to affairs like that before, but Charon’s family was a far cry from the Olympians. 

The ballroom wasn’t packed, but there were enough people to fill it. The rest of Charon’s family were instantly recognizable, dressed in the same dark hues that he was draped in. Charon’s wealth may have been raised on his own, but from what Hermes could see, he also came from money. 

The smattering of other guests that Hermes didn’t recognize he assumed were of the other family and friends. A more colorful lot to be sure. 

Hermes recognized the groom to be, standing just as silent and resolute as his brother. At his side was a shorter man and significantly more boisterous than his partner, laughing with a giant of a woman who was far less amused than he. 

In the far corner was a graceful creature, a woman who had Charon’s height, hair pulled up in a unique style. She looked over to the entrance. Then did a double take. And Hermes instantly knew from her confused frown that this was the woman Charon wanted to knock down a peg. Charon definitely noticed her, stared her down, slipped his free hand into his pocket. 

Hermes leaned in. 

“Lets mingle a bit,” he said. 

“Hrmm,” Charon grumbled, but followed Hermes’ lead into the crowd. 

They walked among the spaces, weaving between party goers, moving as a single unit. Hermes continued to talk to Charon about nothing, sharing in their own private conversation, and making sure to keep at least one hand on Charon at all times. Hermes could tell that this time Charon wasn’t really listening. He was distracted, tense, focused. 

Finally, Charon’s target, the beautiful woman, excused herself from her conversation and was forced to come to _them_. Hermes rested a hand on Charon’s arm. 

“Relax,” he whispered. 

Charon shot him a look, but he felt the muscles under that jacket slowly unclench at Hermes’ command. 

“Charon,” the woman said, her voice smooth as silk and as gorgeous as she was. She held Charon by the shoulders and leaned in to rest her face against his in the world’s loosest hug. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

When she pulled back, pale eyes shifted to Hermes. They shone like the shimmer off stars, carrying an intense quality that was a direct mirror to Charon’s. A shock of intimidation chilled Hermes and his tongue suddenly felt too large for his mouth. Never _never_ had he ever been that terrified by just a look before. Zeus should take notes. 

“And who is this?” she asked in that soft tone. 

Charon opened his mouth to introduce his date, but Hermes was quicker. 

“Hermes,” he said, sticking out his hand. 

She slid her own long fingers into Hermes’. Her skin was chilled, like shaking hands with a nebula. 

“Nyx,” she said. 

“Its a pleasure to finally meet you,” Hermes said. “Charon hasn't told me much, but he does talk about you from time to time. I'm glad we get to meet face to face, really put a face to the name.” 

Hermes could feel the small jolt from Charon under his hand, but his expression was as placid as a still lake. 

“Funny,” Nyx said, looking to Charon. “He hasn’t mentioned you.” 

Hermes laughed. 

“Why am I not surprised?” he said. “Charon is exactly the person to share details about his personal life. Not like I had to pry everything out of him. I'd have better luck mining for diamonds.”

Nyx laughed at the sarcasm, but Hermes knew she hadn’t bought it yet. 

“I think he was nervous, right? Cause its still so young,” Hermes kept going, looking over to Charon. “Its been what . . . three months now? Yeah I think its three months. Has it been three months?” 

Charon waved his hand in a so-so motion. 

“Not unless you don’t count the. . . you know,” Hermes said. 

Charon had the decency to blush, really selling the act. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, looking down at Hermes, and it might have been mistaken for a small moment of intimacy. 

“Hmm,” Nyx said, amused. She looked from between Hermes and Charon and then back again in a single smooth motion. “How did you two meet if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Hermes felt that tension from Charon again and on instinct, Hermes rubbed his arm. The question didn’t come off as an accusation. She wasn’t asking for further evidence to support their claim, but more of a curiosity. Where in the world would this enigmatic creature even meet someone like Hermes?

Well, he wasn’t going to tell her on a hook-up app that was for sure. 

“Its actually a little stupid really,” Hermes laughed, managing to look sheepish. “I’m a runner you see and I tend to go a little fast and can really get caught up in the moment. So I was doing a final push of a run and really into it, when BAM!” 

He clapped his hands together. 

“Out walks this bean pole into the middle of my path and I run right into him. And since Charon is. . .” 

Hermes waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Charon’s height. 

“Him, _I’m_ the one who’s knocked over and eats dirt. And _then_ he has the absolute _audacity_ to apologize. So naturally, I demanded he buy me a coffee.” 

Regardless if she believed the lie was true or not, Nyx was clearly amused. 

“There I was, sitting across from Charon, still sweating my ass off, drinking hot coffee because I was so frazzled I didn’t have the foresight to order iced. A complete and utter mess. And he just asked me out.” 

Hermes looked up to Charon and met the same steely cool gaze he’d been under since he met the man. He smiled a little wider and the fondness came easy to him. 

“And here we are,” he said. 

Charon didn’t blink. His eyes jolted in micro movements, back and forth as he looked between Hermes’. Finally, he reciprocated. He rested his hand on top of Hermes’. Hermes' smile softened as they shared the look and the moment.

He turned back to Nyx. If she didn’t buy it, she didn’t seem to care. Her polite smile was tinged with an odd sort of happiness. Relief maybe?

“And we’re glad to have you,” she said. “Come.” 

She pulled Hermes away from Charon, steering him towards the rest of Charon’s family. 

“Tell me about yourself.” 

____

Two drinks passed over the counter of the open bar. They were born of a kitschy idea, themed drinks based on the two grooms to be. Thanatos with a pale gin based drink, Zagreus had something that was fiery red and flavored with false cinnamon. Charon was slow to pick up the glasses, enjoying the minute reprieve of alone time. 

There was an overstimulation of being around so much noise and body heat. The sheer presence of so many other people sapped energy from him and his stores were running low. 

He took a deep breath and turned back into the fray. 

There were small pockets of guests spattered here and there, having split off to invest in whichever conversations interested them most. Charon’s little circle consisted of his brothers, Thanatos’ fiance, his fiance’s girlfriend (a situation Charon did _not_ want to know more about), and Hermes. 

Hermes’ laugh was unique, singular. It wasn’t particularly loud, but Charon could pick it out of the crowd. He was laughing at something Hypnos had said. Of course he got along with Hypnos. That just made sense. 

The way lies flowed from Hermes’ tongue was admirable. It was a gift, a talent, that he could talk so fast and conjure an imaginary relationship from thin air. Charon was almost envious, having spent his life with rigid honesty, even in a field as shrewd and manipulative as his. 

There was a small twinge. A reaction to their false history together. 

It sounded nice. 

Nyx slid up next to Charon and was at his side before he knew it. He had been lost in thought, standing still in the crowd, his hands full with his and Hermes’ drinks, lost in his own thoughts. His mother took him off guard. 

“I like him,” she said. 

Still undefended, it took Charon a moment to realize she was talking about Hermes. His eyes moved back over to the little crowd again. Hypnos was talking animatedly with his hands, moving them in lazy arcs. Zagreus wore a grimace, like he was trying to be polite, but didn’t think he could maintain it. Thanatos was distracted, looking elsewhere, and Meg looked as if she may murder Charon’s sleepy brother. Hermes was _invested._

Hermes had fielded all of their conversations. With every person that came up to Charon, to talk to him, to ask him how he was, what was new, _who was this new person with him_ , Hermes took over. He dominated, essentially protecting Charon from having to say a word. A verbose shield that Charon gladly placed in front of him. Hermes didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed like he was having a good time. 

Charon found that he was too. 

“Hmm,” Charon said and took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving his date. 

“He’s not what I was expecting,” she said. "He's not the kind of person I thought you might choose." 

He wasn’t what Charon was expecting either. 

“But you look happy.” 

At that Charon looked sharply to his mother. Did he? He didn’t feel any happier. Maybe more at ease. The navigation of the party had been a lot smoother than in the past and Charon was grateful to Hermes for it. 

He sighed, gave his mother a small nod just to appease her, and went back to his shield. 

“And thats why xanax is better than percocet,” Hypnos concluded. 

Charon didn’t want to know. 

“I’ve definitely learned something,” Hermes said. “A little something new every day. I’ll be sure to look out in the future, cheers to that. Oh thank you.” 

Hermes took the garishly red drink from Charon before he could even stopp walking. Hermes took a brief but noisy sip. He paused with the same polite smile on his face. 

“This is bad,” he said. 

“Hey,” Zagreus protested. 

“This is really really bad,” Hermes told Zagreus and took Charon’s gin drink instead, replacing it with the aforementioned bad monstrosity. 

Charon went to protest, but it deflated before it could get anywhere, and he conceded to Hermes. 

“Wow,” Hypnos said. “You have him whipped.” 

Charon shot his brother a glare. 

“The key is patience and repetition,” Hermes said, gently patting Charon on the arm. 

Charon reaimed that glare to his date. Hermes simply smiled up at him, the same sweet one he wore all night. 

“What? Like you didn’t notice?” 

Charon grumbled under his breath. Hermes merely laughed again and, with a hand on Charon’s back, guided him away. 

“Well its been sure nice meeting all of you,” he said, waving his hand with his drink. Not letting go of his touch on Charon. 

“Good to meet you too,” Zagreus said, with a wave of his own. 

Hermes led Charon through the crowd and Charon was happy to let him. He found a quiet corner of the ballroom where a small standing table was set up. The already soft music that had been a persistent underlying presence the whole party was dimmer in that corner. The large windows outside displayed the shift from day to night. Charon hadn’t noticed when that happened. The time had gotten away from him.

“Sorry about that,” Hermes said, leaning his forearms against the table. “Was that too much?” 

Charon had to think about it and decided that no, that was perfect. Exactly what he had asked of Hermes. He shook his head and leaned against the table as well, leaning in towards Hermes. 

Hermes rested a hand on top of Charons, his thumb running up and down his finger, bumping up against the ring at its base. 

Hermes was warm. He ran warm. He was a mini furnace. And he heated up Charon’s cold dead fingers. 

Charon looked from Hermes’ hand up to his face, still wearing that lying mask of endearment. 

He leaned in. 

The kiss wasn’t directly to Charon’s lips, more off to the side. It might have been intended for Charon’s cheek, but instead landed somewhere to the corner of his mouth. Just close enough to be scandalous, intimate, but far enough that Charon couldn’t kiss back. 

Not that Charon could if he wanted to. 

He froze. In absolute shock and surprise, he froze. He had no idea what to do, where to put his hands, where to move, _where to look_. His eyes widened and the hand around his glass tightened. 

After what seemed like forever, but was in actuality only a few seconds, Hermes pulled away. Charon’s furnace, his shield, _his accessory_ was all cool smiles and heavy lidded eyes, looking Charon over. 

“Relax,” he said, not for the first time or even the second time that night and pulsed his hand over Charon’s in a slight squeeze. 

Charon let go of the breath he was holding and did as Hermes said. He didn’t want to look back to see who saw, didn’t want to give away the small act of affinity as the farce that it was. He only turned his hand over to take Hermes’ in his own. 

“Did you want to leave soon?” Hermes asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Or did you want to stay a little while longer?” 

Charon only took a sip of his drink. Hermes was right. It was awful. But he’d finish it. He’d stay. 

Just a little longer. 

____

It was pretty late when Charon pulled up to Hermes’ apartment. He pulled up to the curb and put on his hazards, the bane of any city driver. The city buzzed outside with vague activity. Cars rumbled by, music was heard in the distance, someone talked on their phone. All of it like a memory beyond tinted glass windows, leaving only the ticking of hazard lights and the uncomfortable silence at the end of a date. 

"I had fun," Hermes said, meaning it. He scrunched up his nose. "Ugh that sounds corny. But it's true. I did have fun. That was weirdly fun, meeting your family. It was a good time." 

Charon, in his way, only nodded. Hermes had acclimated quickly to the way the man communicated. 

"You have a nice family. You shouldn't be so hard on them." 

Hermes would know. He had a bad one. 

Charon shot him a scathing look and Hermes pat down the air amicably. 

"Okay okay fine, they suck," he said. "Every last one of them an insufferable freak. Especially you." 

Charon rolled his eyes at that, but couldn't hide the humor. He was a figure of grace, all long limbs, held loose, but as if they adhered to an imaginary set of rules. They had to be placed just so, just the right amount of relaxed that only the insanely wealthy could afford. A standard that Charon made up and kept to. 

Hermes turned in his seat and rested his elbow against the leather, his cheek against his fist. 

"You know I wasn't kidding before," he said. "The thing about your profile pic doing you no justice? You really are way better looking in person." 

Charon's head flopped as he turned to look at Hermes again, his hair dropping limply around his face. Hermes laughed and held out his hand, flexing his fingers in a come here motion. 

"Give me your phone," he said. "You look good right now, I'll take a better picture." 

That blank stare lingered. Hermes flexed his fingers again. With a sigh, Charon catered to Hermes' whims _again_ and handed over the phone. 

All in all, Charon really did make for a good sugar daddy. So accommodating. 

Hermes pulled up the camera and aimed it. Even with the dim lighting and inside the confines of Charon's spacious car, it was a leagues better composition than the mess he currently had up. One hand still on the wheel, staring down Hermes and not the camera, not smiling. It was a part of his charm. 

"There better," Hermes said with a smile. "You deserve some good advertising. Now maybe you can find someone. You know, someone real to take to one of these things." 

Charon took his phone back carefully, maintaining a hard eye contact, before looking at the picture. He had no comment, only swiped to something else, typed something into the key pad, and passed his phone back. 

A payment processor. The 'to' field was left blank, the price was blank. 

Hermes pressed his lips into a thin smile. 

"Right," he said, like he might've forgotten. 

He hadn't forgotten. 

He typed in that month's rent and his email. For the tiniest of moments, the fleeting thought of adding more entered his mind. But he didn't want to do that. Not to Charon. 

He handed the phone back. 

"And now I get to live in this shit hole for another month, thanks," he said with pep. 

Charon let free one of those little breaths that Hermes knew was laughter. Little affectations that made Hermes smile. 

"Oh hey," Hermes said, clicking Charon's watch free. "Here take this back." 

Hermes held it out, but Charon only held up a hand. Hermes straightened his arm insistently, the watch dangling limply from his fingers. Charon only shook his head. 

"You know I'm just going to sell this right?" Hermes asked. 

Charon shrugged, a noncommittal thing, as if he just handed out gold watches every day. Hermes turned the watch face, it's ticks soft under the click of the hazards. He gave a shrug of his own, punctuated with a small _'hmph'_. He slipped the watch into his pocket and turned to leave, one hand on the door, but stopped. 

He looked up to the unassuming building he lived in. It should have been a single family complex, but it was partitioned and refitted to house 6, maybe 7 unlucky individuals. A far cry from sweeping marble floors and extravagant coin collections. A completely different world than the one occupied by silent perfect gentlemen. 

Hermes turned back around and leaned over the arm rest. 

Charon recoiled, that same look of deer-in-headlights fear he had when Hermes kissed him at the party. As if little ole Hermes could do anything to big bad Charon. Hermes smiled, almost ferally, at the power he had. 

He leaned in and tilted his head, planting a soft kiss to Charon's cheek. The big man went stiff again, like a middle schooler on his first date. For all Hermes knew, it might have been his first date. 

Hermes held there for just a breath too long. When he pulled away it was slow, letting his lips drag across dry skin. Letting himself linger with Charon just a moment longer.

At least this time Charon managed to remain composed, if a bit red. 

"You take care of yourself Charon," Hermes said, patting him in the leg. "And thanks. For taking care of me. Daddy." 

Another puffed laugh, another single nod. Hermes stepped from Charon's world back to his own. He all but danced up the stoop of his building and took a moment to look back as he fiddled with his keys. Through the tinted windows, he could see the flicker of Charon's lighter. He had waited until Hermes and his pink lungs were out of the car before he smoked. 

Gentleman. 

Hermes hummed as he walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Bank account full, liver only slightly abused, Hermes had an odd sense of fulfillment. Something he couldn't quite place his finger on. 

He unlocked his door, head still flying past cloud nine. He only partially blamed the alcohol. If he was being honest, he blamed Charon's attention most of all. Being the center of someone's world, even if it was fake, was exhilarating. He could very easily get addicted to it, if he wasn't careful. 

Hermes flopped onto his futon, not wanting to change out of the suit Charon had dressed him in. The fine fabrics were soft on his skin and almost out played the dire state of his mattress. 

He was going to sleep in that vest and those too tight pants. Just because they felt. That. Good. 

Hermes curled up on his side, pulling his blanket up to his chin, and looked at Charon's watch. No, _his_ watch. The watch that was given to _him._ He traced the shapes the inlay diamonds made on the face, watching the gold hands jerk with each second. Sleep crept in, his mind slowed, and he finally recognized it. 

He felt safe. 

It had been ages since he'd felt that way. Years. If he was being honest, he hadn't felt that way since he was living with his mother. He felt free and secure, for at least the next 30 days. He was wrapped in silks with time to figure out what came next. 

He was safe. 

And with that came another overwhelming sensation. 

Happiness. 

Hermes pulled the watch close to his chest and curled around it. He wasn't going to sell it. Not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smorches :)


	3. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Hermes:** _is it another fancy party? i can get the suit u gave me dry cleaned i think i have enough in the bank for that_
> 
> It wasn’t quite the same as the party for Thanatos. Not quite as formal, but not something someone could wear sneakers too. Even if they were nice sneakers. 
> 
> That smile, that blush, played through Charon’s head again. 
> 
> **Charon:** _Would you like to go shopping?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. . . some of you might have noticed that the chapter total is now 5. Welcome to OhNoHello's show of "I thought this fic would shorter but oops its super long instead." 
> 
> Yeah so this chapter hit just over 7k words and I was told to cut it there lol sorry about that
> 
> at one point I thought it was going to be a one shot :')

Hermes knew who was at his door from the ‘shave and a haircut’ knock. It paused for a second before finishing off with a slow ‘two bits.’ Hermes stared at his door, wondering if he stayed quiet long enough the knocker might go away. 

“Too late man I already know you’re in there.” 

Hermes puffed out the breath he was holding and threw his phone to his bed. He wished he had never given his address to his brother. 

Of all his siblings, Dionysus was the most tolerable. He was a laid back sort and was hardly bothered by much, although Hermes did play on his nerves from time to time. Spending time with Dionysus was less of a chore and more of an actual hang out. Still, Hermes was on edge, wondering what his brother would report back to Zeus. They both knew he was only there because Zeus told him to.

“Hey,” Hermes said, drawing out the wordt. “Dionysus. How you doing? What brings you to my neck of the woods? Just in the neighborhood I take it?” 

“Something like that,” Dionysus said. 

He leaned to look in to Hermes’ dingy apartment and the door squeaked as Hermes blocked his view. That only made Dionysus’ smile grow. 

“I came for a little visit, just to see my little brother, is that so bad?” Dionysus said. 

Hermes could tell he’d already been drinking. He could smell it on his breath, see it in the way he swayed from side to side. As if it were a casual movement and not an attempt to stop the world from spinning. It would be more alarming if Dionysus showed up stone cold sober. He’d probably drop dead if he didn’t have a constant flow of alcohol in his bloodstream. 

He held up a bottle of wine. Hermes knew it was expensive. They were always expensive. 

“Its 10 in the morning,” Hermes said. “A little early don’t you think?” 

“For you maybe,” Dionysus said. “Are you going to let me in?” 

Hermes had a whole mind to simply tell his brother no and to shove off, but the weirdo down the hall stepped out of her own shitty room and Hermes knew Dionysus wouldn’t keep his mouth shut at seeing something new and shiny. He grabbed his brother by his stylishly ill fitting shirt. 

“Yeah yeah yeah, come on in,” he said, dragging Dionysus in. 

Hermes closed the door with a little too much force and it slammed when he shut it. Dionysus was, as he always was, unperturbed. He stumbled into Hermes’ tiny shoe box of an apartment and it was a miracle he didn’t bump into the bed. He looked around the room, stopping for a moment at the exposed toilet in the corner, a small pleasant smile on his face. 

There had been more accoutrements the last time Dionysus was there. Gone was the computer and its desk, gone with the little tv, gone was Hermes’ running trophies. All sold when Hermes was between jobs. It was practically barren, but Dionysus’ examination stopped at the new decor that hung on the back of the door. The suit with its vest, glimmering purple in the sunlight. His brows rose at that, but he said nothing, instead continuing his inspection to the bed. 

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, bending down to pick up the watch that perpetually lived there. 

Hermes swooped in to scoop it up before Dionysus could get his dirty hands on it. 

“No where, nunya,” he said, hiding it behind his back. “Thats on a need to know basis and you don’t need to know.” 

Dionysus snorted and instead picked up Hermes’ phone. Hermes instantly went red. 

He had been going through his emails, replies to his applications from a variety of jobs, and he would have preferred if Dionysus had seen that instead. But lately, Hermes had a bad habit of getting distracted. He would pause whatever he was doing and pull up the hook up app, open his messages, and look over the scant conversation he had just a couple of weeks ago. He had read the words over and over again, memorized like an ear worm. Stuck in his head and playing on loop. 

Dionysus scrolled, reading through what little conversation he could see before Hermes snatched the phone away too. 

“Brother,” Dionysus said, half laughing. 

“Don’t,” Hermes said, immediately shutting and locking his phone. 

“Have you met someone?” 

“Nope,” Hermes insisted and he was _not_ pouting. “I haven’t met anyone. Theres no one to meet. Shut up. I swear to god if you breathe a word of this to Zeus–” 

Dionysus held his hands up in the air, the bottle of wine precariously held between his index and thumb. 

“Okay okay, mums the word,” he said. Dionysus wiggled the bottle in the air. “Where’s your bottle opener?” 

“I don’t have one.” 

Dionysus’ congenial smile fell. 

“I have absolutely no need for one,” Hermes said. “I’m no lush.” 

Dionysus pouted. Even though they had drastically different features, it was a near identical pout to Hermes’. It came from the same source. 

“Well looks like we’re drinking outside then,” Dionysus said. “Its a beautiful day.” 

Hermes raised a finger with a rebuttal but stopped. 

“You know what, I’ve got an interview in an hour, might as well loosen up,” he said. “Lets go, I know a nice park and hopefully we don’t get stopped by a cop.” 

One short walk and a cheap bottle opener later, Hermes and Dionysus found themselves sitting on the grass of an open park. Dionysus found a nice patch of shade and laid back against the lawn. He lounged, looking like he belonged there, legs spread out and propped up on one arm. They had bought cheap plastic wine cups, complete with step by step screw on stem assembly, and Dionysus complained that it would ruin the bouquet. He poured the wine anyways. 

“So,” he said over the slosh of liquid. “Tell me about this Charon.” 

Hermes choked on his wine. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, wiping away at his lips. Before Dionysus could say anything, Hermes did as he always did: he cut him off. “It was just one date, a good time, thats all. We went out, we had fun, theres not going to be a second date. It just wasn’t that kind of thing.” 

Dionysus took a slow sip. 

“Nothing huh?” he asked. “Is that where you got that hunk of metal?” 

He tilted his glass to the watch. Hermes had clapped it back on his wrist. He’d been doing that a lot lately. It just felt good there, like it belonged. A security blanket he could wear into interviews. Its weight made the day to day just a little easier. 

“Are you worried that he’ll report you for theft?” Dionysus asked. 

Ouch. That stung. 

Of course Dionysus took the facts and added them up to that. Hook up app, shifty little brother Hermes, squallor living conditions where he sold all his earthly belongings, the sudden appearance of a nice watch. 

Of course Dionysus thought Hermes was taking advantage of rich men and ransacking their homes. 

Well. He did take advantage of Charon. Just a little. But it mutual. Charon took advantage of him right back, so it was fair. 

It was only fair. 

“Stop prying,” Hermes said, kicking his brother’s legs. “Stay out of my love life. How about yours? Are you still hooking up with that nymph? You know, that woman with all the jewelry you brought around last christmas?” 

“That was three years ago,” Dionysus laughed. “You’ve been gone a while.” 

Hermes smirked and waited. 

“But yeah,” Dionysus drawled and leaned back further, relaxing even deeper into his lounge, if that was even possible. “Its nothing serious but I bring her around from time to time.” 

“That must piss Zeus off,” Hermes said. 

“Why do you think I do it?” Dionysus laughed. 

Having successfully steered the conversation away, Hermes sipped his wine and let Dionysus talk about himself. Hermes got tales of home, what latest scandal Aphrodite was in, Artemis trying to do what he did and failing because she liked the comfort too much. Apparently she had a girlfriend now, good for her. Uncle Poseidon was still leeching off Zeus and living in the beach house. It might as well have been his home at that point. Sure would be nice to live somewhere and not have to pay rent. 

Hermes couldn’t get too jealous. He didn’t want to owe Zeus anything. 

He didn’t want to owe anyone anything. 

Dionysus finished off most of the bottle and Hermes dumped out half his glass in a trash can. They said their goodbyes and Hermes basically floated down the sidewalk. 

As if on instinct, he fished his phone out of his pocket. 

The screen turned on to his messages with Charon. 

He wanted to say something, to ask how he was doing, how his family was doing. He had so many questions. About the coin collection, about the weird things he could order up to his apartment, about his job. Hermes wanted to pick his brain, to listen to his soft grumbles. 

He wanted to have another night where he was the center of Charon’s world. 

Hermes stared down at those words until the pixels blurred before his eyes and for the first time in his life had no idea what to say. 

____

Charon wished Hermes was there. 

"I didn't know they had kept going," Nyx said. "Simply creating. You should see it Charon. A field of art, it's simply amazing." 

She had a wistful look in her eye, staring out over the river, hands folded and resting her chin on the back of them. Nyx had reached out to her last remaining parent, long since estranged, in an attempt to reconnect. The fates would have it, Charon's grandparent had missed their daughter in return. For the past few weeks, their relationship was mending, stitching back together into a piece that was whole. 

"It really is something," she said, no longer talking to Charon in specific. "I should really send Zagreus a gift basket. As a thank you." 

The boy had been adamant that Chaos come to his wedding and made the effort to bring parent and child back together again. 

And for that, Charon cursed him. 

Nyx's far away eyes, filled with love and hope, turned back to her son. The reconnection with her own parent had fostered a fire within her to bridge the gap between her and her own children. As if she hadn't been the one to create that chasm between them in the first place. 

These little lunch dates were prying into his precious time. 

"Do you think you could make it out to the farm?" she asked longingly. "I insist that you do, it's gorgeous."

Charon liked her better when she ignored him. He sipped his coffee. Nyx fumbled, letting her hands rest on the table and finding her poise again. Charon's non answer was answer enough. 

"Well at any rate," she said. "I shall bring you one of their paintings. Surely you can find room for it in that home of yours." 

Charon nodded, as if to appease her. He drank his coffee too fast and it burned his tongue, rushing to be done with this outing. 

"Tell me then," Nyx said, still building that bridge to a side that didn't want it. "How is work going?" 

Charon _especially_ didn't want to talk about work. The last few months had been a headache and the last few weeks had been a traumatic nightmare. The merger with Hades House had finally gone through and all Charon wanted to do was pass out and rest on his laurels. Not continue to fulfill the social demands of his company. One more work function that he did not care to attend.

He downed the last of his coffee and it seared his throat. 

He wished he had his shield there. Someone who was distracting, who would distract Nyx. Who would listen to her talk about Chaos and interject with questions, who would naturally turn and twist the conversation to their whims. 

Charon wished Hermes was there. 

_'You shouldn't be so hard on them,'_ his voice in the back of Charon’s head said. 

Charon sighed, the weight of it sagging off his shoulders. If she asked he might as well tell her. 

"That's okay, you don't have to tell me," she said gently before Charon could open his mouth. 

It was her way of trying, to give him the space he might need. Letting him come to her instead of pushing so hard. So that he may accept her olive branch one day. 

Maybe if she quit insisting on these visits. 

Still, he smiled and nodded gratefully, in an attempt to not be so hard.

"And how is Hermes doing?" she asked. 

Charon paused. He sat frozen in the midday sun, his neck warm, his blood cold. 

How was Hermes doing? That was a question he seemed to be asking himself on a day to day basis. It crept intrusively into the back of his mind and before he was aware of it, he'd be thinking of that little spit of human sunshine. Full minutes would pass before he'd remember what it was that he was supposed to be doing. 

Nyx's smile softened, her eyes scrunching in a cooing delight at Charon's apparent vulnerability. 

Eventually he would have to tell her the relationship ended. It wasn't a full lie, Charon's time with Hermes was over. The truth would just be exaggerated to what that end really was. Lie and tell her it wasn’t an affair that lasted a single, wonderful night, but a months long relationship with a not so messy breakup. 

But not just yet. Maybe later he'd tell Nyx they had broken up, but for that afternoon, as far as she was concerned, they were still together. 

Charon shrugged and looked to the river, feigning nonchalance. 

"I'm glad you found each other," she said. "I really am." 

Charon leaned into his fist to hide the curl of his lips. He’d let this fake relationship last a little longer, if only in fiction. 

Nyx gratefully held the rest of the conversation and Charon tried not to be ‘too hard’ on her. He paid attention as she talked wedding details and how kind Zagreus was to Thanatos. That, at least, Charon enjoyed hearing about. 

At the end of the visit, she tried to hug him again. It was a loose limp action of simply holding his shoulders and leaning in close, the nearest to physical contact he would allow from her. They left on relatively good terms and Charon walked to his car. He lit up a cigarette, the swirl of thoughts in his mind blurring together. 

Nyx, Chaos, Hades House, the upcoming merger event. 

Charon pinched the bridge of his nose, letting smoke seep out of the corner of his lips. He really didn’t want to attend, but his name was on the damn sign. Was it not enough that he ran the company? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand a night of listening to people he did not care about talking about their insignificant lives. 

Charon wished Hermes was. . . 

He blinked his eyes open as once again his little intrusive thought danced into his head. This time, with a solution instead of idle daydreams. 

He pulled out his phone.

 **Charon:** _I need you._

 **Hermes:** _;)_

Charon hadn’t expected the response to be so quick, but really he shouldn’t have been surprised. He could feel that smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. He clamped his cigarette between his lips and typed using both thumbs. 

**Charon:** _I have a work function that I have to attend. I can’t get out of it._

 **Hermes:** _so u need sum arm candy again?_

 **Charon:** _Thats one way of putting it._

He tapped the side of his phone and dragged in the burn of ash. By that point Hermes almost knew him better than most people. It wouldn’t hurt to be brutally honest. 

**Charon:** _I don’t want to talk to anyone._

 **Hermes:** _lol_

Charon could hear Hermes’ unique laughter.

 **Hermes:** _yeah i can be your mouth piece_

 **Hermes:** _. . ._

 **Hermes:** _that came out dirty u know what i mean_

Charon puffed out a laugh again, smoke plumbing around his head. He was standing in the middle of the parking lot and was just barely aware of a car swerving around him. He stared at the screen, watching three dots dance and stop again as Hermes typed and retyped. 

**Charon:** _Same deal as last time._

Charon offered. He didn’t mind paying for Hermes’ rent. It was far less than he was expecting, but more than the decrepit building was worth. And the brilliant smile and hint of red on Hermes’ cheeks when Charon gave him the watch. . . 

Turns out he didn’t mind being a sugar daddy. Even if for just a pretend relationship. 

The three dots froze. 

**Charon:** _Is that acceptable?_

Another long moment passed and still no response. Charon told himself that Hermes probably had other things to do. Things that were more important than Charon. He pocketed his phone and sat down in his car. He’d finish the cigarette he was working on and light up another for the ride home. 

His phone buzzed and he absolutely did not jump for it. 

**Hermes:** _ya_

 **Hermes:** _is it another fancy party? i can get the suit u gave me dry cleaned i think i have enough in the bank for that_

It wasn’t quite the same as the party for Thanatos. Not quite as formal, but not something someone could wear sneakers too. Even if they were nice sneakers. 

That smile, that blush, played through Charon’s head again. 

**Charon:** _Would you like to go shopping?_

____

Hermes stepped off the train to a part of town he hadn’t been to in years. Not since he first moved to the city and still allowed himself to waste Zeus’ money. 

Elysium Blvd was for people with money. Rich folks. Overflowing bank accounts that wouldn’t break a sweat if they spontaneously burnt half of it. 

Hermes shouldn’t have been surprised that was where Charon went shopping. From what little he saw of the millionaire (billionaire?) he dressed to extravagance. Hermes was curious if he’d be in some sort of three piece suit for a casual day out. 

He practically skipped up the sidewalk. The spontaneous message from Charon was exactly what he needed. He had been staring at the open conversation again, had seen Charon typing, and his heart had leapt up into his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from responding, not even if he wanted to. 

Hermes was excited to see Charon again. It was fun pretending to be his boyfriend. They were co-conspirators in this bit of trickery and Hermes did love himself a bit of trickery. 

Besides. There was something about the way Hermes could make Charon laugh. That little puff. The way Charon eased under his touch, the way Charon paid attention to when he talked, the way Charon waited and listened and offered his arm. 

Hermes stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and took a deep breath. It was fun, being around Charon, but it was just a bit of fun. 

He walked past all the beautiful people who would fit right in with his family, looking for the bean stalk. He found Charon easy enough. 

He wasn’t wearing a three piece suit. 

Charon stood off to the side, just enough that he wasn’t blocking the flow of foot traffic. He stood a head and a half taller than everyone else and was capped off with a ridiculously large hat. The brim was so wide enough to drape a shadow over his face. The band around it was decorated with gold coins to match his necklaces and bracelets and rings. 

He wore a plain button down with the sleeves rolled up and Hermes openly stared. Why didn’t he notice Charon’s forearms before? When did Charon even have the time to build them up like that? Was the rest of him like that? 

Even the heat got to the tall man and he draped his coat over his shoulder. That didn’t seem to stop him from wearing a gold accented scarf. A lit cigarette was as much of an accessory as his jewelry was. He turned and purple tinted sunglasses glinted in the sun. 

Hermes was caught staring. 

He cleared his throat, shook his head, and marched up to his pretend boyfriend. Gentleman that he was, Charon put out his cigarette. 

“Hey,” Hermes said, a little too loud, a little too fast. “Weren’t waiting for me too long I hope. The train was delayed and you don’t even _know_ how much that grates on my nerves.” 

Charon was listening, but Hermes saw the way his head slowly tilted down and then back up again, taking in the details of the man in front of him. Or what could be called details. 

Hermes was barely a complement to Charon’s austere appearance. He was a study in contrast. Dressed in athleisure joggers with too long legs that he had to roll up to make up for his short stature. Charon had taken his everyday sneakers away and all he had left to choose from were either the dress shoes Charon had given him or his blown out running shoes. At least his shirt was clean. 

The watch on his wrist stood out like a sore golden thumb. 

“Judgey,” Hermes accused in two distinct syllables. “Like you’re allowed to say anything. I think you might be the last remaining hipster.” 

Charon tilted his chin to peer at Hermes over his glasses. Those pale eyes bore right into him and Hermes pushed down a seasonally inappropriate chill. 

Conceding, Charon rose to his full height and motioned for Hermes to follow him, his rings clacking as he did. 

It was simple, to slide back into the role, to step back into his place at Charon’s side. Hermes was always buzzing with energy and seemed to walk faster than most of his friends and associates, but Charon had such a long stride he could keep up with Hermes. Or Hermes could keep up with him. They slipped into a pace where they kept up with each other. 

“How have you been my duplicitous friend?” Hermes asked, earning him a _look_ from Charon. Reactions that Hermes coveted. “You look well, like you’ve been sleeping. And by that I mean the exact opposite. Are you hung over?” 

Charon groaned and waved his hand in a so so motion. Little motions and affectations that Hermes didn’t realize he missed. He tracked them this time. To find better ways to integrate himself into the farce they wove. At least thats what Hermes told himself.

“Tell me about this little ‘work function,’” Hermes said, dropping the air quotes hard and slow. “What are we talking about here? I thought people in your line of work were all cocaine and strippers. Which, I can completely see why you’d want to get out of that.” 

The first Charon patented laugh of the day. Hermes marked a tally in his head. 

Charon stalled, taking in a deep breath. He paused, considering his words carefully, a far cry from Hermes modus operandi. Hermes found that for Charon he had a deep well of patience. Although when Charon began explaining _why_ they were having a ‘party,’ Hermes felt his eyes glaze over. 

“Wow okay I get it, no more,” Hermes said, patting the air. “Your job is super boring. Pays well, but damn I don’t think I could ever do what you do. Did you sell your soul to the devil or something?”

Another laugh. Two tallies. 

“Okay, so you just need me to schmooze your coworkers, get them to not talk about work or themselves or other boring things. Make sure they don’t talk to you, unless its about our fake little relationship, because we.” Hermes waved his finger between the two of them. “Are super cute.” 

Charon paused on the sidewalk and Hermes stumbled forward, continuing up the street and unaware that Charon had stopped. 

For just a second, Hermes wondered if went a little too far again. He had a tendency to do that. The same chilling thought shot through him when he had leaned forward to steal a kiss, just to sell their little act. The look on Charon’s face had been one of abject shock and the little voices that sounded suspiciously like his family told him he had crossed that line again. 

But Charon had relaxed. And it was okay. 

Charon opened the door of the shop next to him and held it for Hermes. With a quick smile, Hermes accepted it. He looked around the store, at its racks of fashionable jackets and folded stacks of blue jeans. Ornate patterns that were more suitable to street wear and fabrics that would be destroyed if they even so much looked at a washing machine. 

“This doesn’t exactly look like a suit store,” he said. 

Once again, Charon’s disapproving gaze swept over Hermes’ sweatshirt. 

“You’re really _that_ embarrassed to be seen with me?” he laughed. “You’re what? Just going to buy me a new outfit?” 

Charon paused again and looked over the store. He motioned back to the door, to the expensive street outside. 

Giving Hermes free reign. 

Hermes inspected the shop, over the fineries, accessories, and shinies. He ran his tongue over his lip and looked back up to Charon. 

“Okay,” he said. “You’re on. Lets see if I can drain your bank account. Daddy.” 

The store was poorly lit with dark walls for some sort of ambiance and the music played just a bit too loud. Charon led the way, looking about as out of place as a darkened monolith in a corn field. He picked up a shirt with a brand logo across the chest. 

Hermes clicked his tongue. 

“You’re kidding right?” he said. “Move over, if I’m gonna spend its going to be on something good.” 

Hermes took over and Charon seemed content to follow along, like an oversized duckling. Hermes picked up shirt after shirt, draping them over his arms, each one just as brightly colored as the last. He walked past a rack of jackets, far too warm for the heat outside, but did a double take. The yellow and orange caught his eye. He glanced back to Charon who still seemed unperturbed, picking at the fabric of an overpriced t-shirt and pulling on a thread. Hermes grabbed the jacket.

By that point, Hermes moved just for show, picking up whatever until his arm was weighed down. He got the funny feeling that if he asked nice enough Charon would buy the whole lot. Hell, he probably didn’t have to ask. 

Hermes headed to the changing room. 

“So how’s the family?” he asked through the door. 

No response. Hermes smiled to himself and wriggled into some skinny jeans, complaining once they got to his thighs. 

“Doing okay? Nyx seemed real nice. I mean I went with it but she’s your mom right? She had big mom energy, but you’d honestly never guess it. Do you know her skin care routine?” 

He could hear the bracelets clank against each other as Charon fidgeted on the other side. 

“And who were those two terrors that kept doing shots in the back? Cousins? Sisters? I tried to say hi but they looked about just as happy to be there as you were.” 

Hermes poked his head out the door. 

“Well, until I made you happy,” he said with a wink. 

It was far too easy to get those subtle little rises out of Charon. 

Hermes zipped up his fly and stepped out. He held out his arms to show off option number one. 

“Well? What do you think?” he asked. 

Charon crinkled his nose at the shirt with the brand logo on it. The man had class and a distinct style, he knew what he liked, but only when he saw it. Hermes turned with a flourish, knowing _exactly_ what he looked like in those jeans. Charon knew what he liked. . . when he saw it. 

Hermes’ smile turned feral as Charon’s stare flicked back up to his face. 

“Alright alright, enough fucking around, I get it,” Hermes laughed and stepped back into the stall. 

He picked up the clothes he actually wanted. A small flutter threatened in his chest. It had been such a long time since he’d been able to do that. Find something he liked and just bought it. Hermes took a moment, running his hand over the smooth fabric, the way the design was embroidered into the shine and how soft the inside was. He could probably get away with wearing the jacket without a shirt. 

Hermes dressed and stepped out of the stall. 

“Better?” he asked. 

He wore a plain black button down and grey wash jeans. A single rip adorned one knee, stylishly placed there rather than the ratty torn through articles that currently dominated his closet. Relatively plain and rather boring all considered, but it was the jacket that made up for it. 

A gold and orange bomber jacket littered with a pattern of birds. Hermes always had an affinity for birds, something about wings and freedom and flight called to him. If he could, he would’ve run into the sky and never looked back. They soared across the fabric in shades of red, orange, and yellow, swooping and flying through one another. The sleeves were a plain yellow, ending in orange cuffs. 

The look as a whole matched the watch on his wrist far better. 

“I was thinking something a little like this,” Hermes said, popping the first couple of buttons of his shirt. 

If he was going to be arm candy, he was going to be pretty about it. 

He was disappointed when there was no reaction from Charon. Instead, Charon pulled out a pocket knife. It flew open with a casual flick and Hermes’ eyes went wide. Charon stood up and approached him, but Hermes held still, a smile plastered to his face, and he hoped it didn’t look nervous. 

Charon reached around behind Hermes and pulled the tag taut. He cut the one off the jacket, then the one off the shirt, and pulled at the fold over that tucked inside the jeans. Hermes bit his lip, allowing himself to be manhandled by his sugar daddy. 

“One more thing,” Hermes said, before Charon could get very far. 

He rolled up the ends of the pants. No matter what, everything was always just a little too long. Thats what he got for being under the average height. He scooped up his sweats and ignored the look from Charon. 

“What? They’re my clothes,” he said, nose high. “I have a sentimental attachment to them.” 

Charon paid and Hermes made a distinct point not to look at the register. He took a peek anyways and tried not to balk. The cashier seemed mildly upset that Charon had ripped the tags off, but was far too intimidated to say anything about it. 

Hermes resisted the urge to loop his arm into Charon’s, sidling up to him as a point of pride. As if to show him off. That yes, random stranger, that was _his_ intimidating man.

They weren’t in pretend dating mode, there was no need. 

Deemed appropriately suitable to walk next to his royal snobbiness, Hermes and Charon left the shop.

“So where to next?” Hermes asked. 

Once again, Charon led the way and Hermes stepped alongside him. It was terribly rude to walk side by side on a slim sidewalk, but Hermes couldn’t seem to care. 

“Why are you such an antisocial loner anyways?” Hermes kept prodding. “Did someone traumatize you in your childhood or something?” 

The way Charon’s eyes shot to look at Hermes through the side of his glasses should have been some sort of scary, but it was hard to be scared of him when he was fighting a smile. 

“I know I know I know, I got the exact opposite ‘problem,’ with the whole talk too much thing,” he said. “I just feel the need to fill up the spaces. Someone’s gotta keep this up. And I know you’re not going to.” 

“Hrrrmm,” Charon grumbled looking away, a lace of fondness under the sound. 

“Ha, did I offend you? Was it the poking fun at your silence?” Hermes said, prodding Charon’s arm. 

Charon stopped again. There was none of that nervousness or deer-in-headlights from before. A sort of sympathy washed over his face. 

At one time, he had given Hermes permission to ‘talk too much.’ The offense was at the self depreciation. 

Hermes swallowed his tongue. 

Charon placed a hand on the back of Hermes’ neck, a gentle touch that was cool in the heat of the day. After being so tactile with Charon, Hermes would think a touch like that shouldn’t bother him. He blamed the ice cold fingers. They felt nice. 

Charon guided him into another store. This one looked more appropriate for suits. 

“Hello,” a representative said, bustling through the near empty shop. “How can I help you?” 

“We’re looking for some duds,” Hermes said before Charon could open his mouth. 

“Right this way,” the clerk said. 

Hermes was introduced to an array of sport coats and pants and belts and under shirts. All arranged in an assortment of greys and blacks and one in tan. That made Hermes look like he was going to a yacht party. 

He grimaced and turned to look at Charon, who seemed to share the sentiment. 

Charon looked around the shop and perked up when something caught his eye. He pulled the suit off the rack and held it out to the clerk. 

Hermes smiled up at Charon. 

“You get me,” he said. 

Hermes tried on the suit. It was a handsome black affair, smattered with gold, a detail far more suitable for Charon’s tastes, save for the pattern. More birds, gold shine shifting on the fabric with every movement of Hermes’ body. Not too much, just a detail on the shoulder, another near the wrist, a waterfall cascading down his chest. Flying through the pitch night instead of in shimmering sunlight. 

It didn’t quite fit, but that could be fixed and the clerk began taking his measurements and pinning the suit in place. 

Charon watched with interest and his eyes dropped again. Lower than where it was more perverted. Unless he was really into feet. 

Hermes looked down and smiled. 

“You like them?” he asked, raising one foot to show off the tattoo there. 

He had two tattoos, one on each ankle. Wings that hugged around the bone and flew up to his leg. Orange into red. He wasn’t kidding when he dreamed about flying. 

“I got them back in college, don’t worry they weren’t some drunk purchase,” Hermes said. “I was on a running team, I actually went to college on a scholarship for my running. I really wanted to pay for it myself, you know, really stick it to Zeu–” 

Hermes didn’t talk about his home life much. He didn’t talk about anything that hit too close to home much. It almost just fell right out. He was too comfortable. 

He looked over his shoulder and Charon cocked his head to the side. Listening intently. As he always did. 

“My dad,” Hermes said. “He’s a real piece of work, you might like him. I just wanted to show him I could do it on my own. I almost took up a job with a team, go pro, but I wanted to use my degree just to stick it to him.” 

He ground his teeth back and forth, staring at the handsome vision his reflection made in that suit. He had failed on that front and while Zeus knew plenty well, Hermes wasn’t ready to admit it. 

“Fucker,” he muttered. 

Charon hummed in agreement. Hermes caught his eye in the mirror. 

“How about you?” Hermes asked. “Whats the deal with you and Nyx? You seemed. . . not close.” 

Charon gave Hermes a long stare. And went for his cigarettes. 

Hermes barked out a laugh. 

“That bad huh?” he asked. 

“Hrrm,” Charon grumbled, flicking his lighter.

“Uh sir?” the clerk said from his place on the floor. “You can’t–” 

Charon gave the man a single stare and let a lazy cloud of smoke seep past his lips. The clerk tried to maintain some form of dignity, but went back to work on Hermes’ suit. Hermes snorted. 

“Anyways, I probably still could get on a team somewhere, but I’m not as fast as I used to be,” Hermes said. “Well I might be but uh. . .” 

He jerked his head to his dead running shoes that might as well have been flip flops at that point. 

“My shoes blew out.” 

Charon looked at the dire footwear with some consideration, but otherwise gave no reaction. 

All measured and ready to go, Charon arranged for the suit to be delivered to Hermes’ rat hole and paid for expedited alterations. This time Hermes didn’t even peek at the price. He _really_ didn’t want to know. They stepped from the cool of the store into the beat of the sun. 

“Well I guess thats about it?” Hermes said with a shrug. “Unless you want to get some coffee or something?” 

The second it was out of his mouth, Hermes knew he fucked up. Too far, too far, too far. Hermes suddenly wished he knew how to edit himself before word vomit just flew from his lips. Something about essentially recreating their first ‘date’ was a little too close for comfort for Hermes. 

For once, Charon was the one who was unbothered. His stare was long and ponderous and Hermes worried that maybe he broke the man. Instead, Charon tugged on the sleeve of his jacket and began walking in the opposite direction of the train. Hermes watched him go a few steps and worried. 

He followed. 

His mind buzzed with the idea of sitting across from the imposing man, the two of them drinking coffee, Hermes once again filling up the blank spaces of silence with nervous idle chatter. There was no one around to see, no one to fool. This was a shopping trip to prep for another charade of deception, not a date. 

The idea of that day being a date disturbed Hermes somehow. Charon being his actual sugar daddy rather than some guy who just wanted to fool his family and coworkers. That he dressed Hermes up like a doll because he wanted a pretty little thing at his side. 

Hermes wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

It was suspiciously close to Olympus. 

Charon turned into another store and it wasn’t a coffee shop. It was a shoe store. 

“Oh,” Hermes said. “Huh.” 

Charon waved his hand over the store again, in the same way he did at the start of the trip. A re-up of the gauntlet Hermes had thrown down. He had more to give and Hermes had more to exploit. He bounced in place a little, looking at his deader than dead shoes. It was just an extension of their little agreement. Running shoes this time instead of rent. 

“Well alright then, if you insist,” Hermes sang. 

Hermes was far more discerning with shoes than he had been with ‘casual’ wear. When he picked up a pair, it was with purpose. He must have tried on every option. Road runners versus trail runners versus cross trainers. If he still had low arches or if he could get away with a normal runner. He jogged up and down the store, trying each and every one of them out, explaining the pros and cons to Charon as he went. 

Whatever Charon bought him would be blown out within a year anyways. If they even made it to a full year. 

Charon didn’t seem to mind. 

After he had selected the perfect shoe and had it tucked under his arm, they made their way to the register and Charon stopped. He tapped Hermes on the shoulder and pointed to a window display. 

The sneakers were ridiculous. They were glimmering and shining and once again, gold. Of course. Puffed up high tops that would absolutely do nothing for Hermes’ ankles when he ran. More form than function. There to look pretty and nothing more. 

Made all the more prominent with a pair of cloth wings on either side. 

An uncomfortable twist crawled up Hermes’ spine. A limit he was reaching. 

But he wanted them. 

“You get me,” he mumbled, trying not to smile. 

Two brand new pairs of shoes acquired and wings on his feet, Hermes dropped his running shoes cum flip flops into a trash can with a flourish. Charon seemed pleased. 

Charon, gentleman and hipster, walked Hermes to the train station. Hermes’ mind buzzed with subjects he could hop onto, but nothing seemed right. The new graveyard shift fast food job he acquired and how awful it was. The weirdo who lived down the hall and made hammering noises in the middle of the night. Dionysus’ visit? Really open up and word vomit about his home life? 

Charon would listen. 

Thank him. Hermes should thank him. 

“Welp,” Hermes said, clapping his shopping bags to his side. “Thanks for the date.” 

Hermes choked on his words. Charon’s thin brows rose. 

“Uuuh,” Hermes fumbled. “Fake date. With my fake boyfriend. Doing fake shopping, well very real shopping, but for the fake relationship. I mean, if the only thing that would top this off is a fake flower or something like that.” 

Hermes kept going, unable to stop, and _really_ felt the motor mouth, talk too much, statements play out in real time. But Charon listened to him ramble and for once, Hermes was unappreciative of his singular focus. Charon looked away, something else catching his attention. He stepped away mid sentence and Hermes’ voice trailed off, head turning as he watched Charon go. 

There was a stand by the train station. Hermes had only been half aware of it when he all but flew up the stairs, eager to get to this not-date. A little old woman stood at the cart’s side, selling flowers displayed on tiered shelving. They weren’t fake, but they were spray painted and wrapped in what looked like greasy newspaper. 

Charon paid for one with cash. 

That shut Hermes up. He watched, slack jawed as Charon walked back and quietly held the flower out to Hermes. Hermes just stared at it. The poor thing was so top heavy it flopped forward towards him. He could smell the blue spray paint wafting off of it. By far the cheapest thing Charon had bought him that day. 

And it tipped the scale. 

Hermes shook a little as he took the flower. He laughed painfully and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay,” he said and his voice rasped. “You win. I give up. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve reached my limit.” 

He smiled pathetically up at Charon who was nothing but cool and calm and content. 

“Stop buying me stuff,” Hermes said. 

Charon laughed. Tally that number whatever, Hermes had lost count. 

Hermes pulled the flower close to his chest. The poor thing wouldn’t survive the trip home, he was sure of it. 

“See you this weekend?” he asked. 

Charon nodded. 

Without any words, Hermes turned and headed to the train, not daring to look back around. 

The flower made it all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [OUTFITS INSPIRED BY UMICHILL](https://twitter.com/Umichill/status/1331426191656562689?s=20)
> 
> LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT THEM BEAUTIFUL MANS. FUCKIN CHARON'S ARMS FFFFFFFFF
> 
> [Sobbing at this art from @artlyloser 😭](https://twitter.com/artlyloser/status/1338665014341869570?s=19)
> 
> [And this art from boncorner 😭😭](https://twitter.com/boncorner/status/1343288726982713347?s=19)
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)


	4. Oh Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon wasn’t nervous. 
> 
> He looped his tie around, watching his reflection carefully. And he wasn’t nervous. 
> 
> The back end was longer than the front. He wasn’t nervous. 
> 
> He loosened the choking instrument angrily and let it fall to the ground. A low long breath escaped to calm his nerves. 
> 
> _He. Was not. Nervous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoopsie doodle this is now 6 chapters long HOW DID THAT HAPPEN 
> 
> So I had this neat little back and forth with a Hermes scene and then a Charon scene and then I just sort of . . . broke that? So 3 Charon scenes in a row and a neat little Hermes at the end. Next chp is going to be like that too. 
> 
> Can you believe this chapter and the last one were supposed to be one chapter? I'm a goof ain't I?

Charon wasn’t nervous. 

He looped his tie around, watching his reflection carefully. And he wasn’t nervous. 

The back end was longer than the front. He wasn’t nervous. 

He loosened the choking instrument angrily and let it fall to the ground. A low long breath escaped to calm his nerves. 

_He. Was not. Nervous._

Because if he was nervous, that would imply that there would be something to be nervous about. Of which, of course, there was nothing to be nervous about. Just another superfluous work party, an HR mandate for some morale booster in a company that ultimately plays with money and people’s lives. A requirement from the ‘Sunshine Squad,’ someone had called it. 

Thats all it was. 

Nothing to be nervous about. 

Nothing at all. 

Charon scooped the tie up from off the ground and tried it again. He looped it around his collar, popped with the ends brushing his jaw, and began the knot anew. He looked at his reflection, impassive and blank, cool as a calm surface of water. Not an inkling of the nerves he clearly _did not have._

The past few days had been spent preparing for that evening. Not in the sense that he was aware of the intermingling offices, the constant moving of new employees that had survived the merger, or even the buzz of what caterer was going to serve what and should there be powerpoint presentations or not. 

No, it was a preparation of the self. A mental steeling. Girding one's loins, as it were. 

Multiple times Charon found himself pausing mid work and staring into the middle distance, far worse than before. Mid sentence of an email, his fingers would pause on his keyboard and he’d remember the detail of feathers across an ankle. Or fingers picking at his jacket. Or nervous requests to get coffee. Or rambling about shoe specs or bicycles or music or whatever subject matter flitted through that fascinating mind at lightning speed. 

He was doing it again. Fingers stalled on his tie, staring at his reflection, but mind far away. 

Charon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

That was precisely the issue. After Thanatos’ party, it had been a mere distraction. After their shopping trip, it had turned into an outright problem.

It wasn’t just the company or even the role of sugar daddy that did it. It wasn’t the conversation or the attention or the little flirtatious details, although those did not help. 

It had been the smile. 

Charon had bought that miserable flower as a joke, an extension of everything he had done that day. Just one more thing that Hermes had wanted and it was proof that he would get it, because he was a man of his word. He upheld his bargains. 

But Hermes had held the flower close. He had laughed and it sounded painful. He smiled and told Charon to stop. Stop with their bargain. 

It all felt so genuine. As if the flower had been real, as if they were there not to disguise their relationship as something other than what it was. As if the disguise were truth. As if Hermes’ request to stop was a sincere invitation to continue with something different. 

Charon looked in the mirror again and finished his knot with business like efficiency. 

His mind kept playing tricks on him, like flickers of light at night, illusionary hallucinations. Little details of how Hermes fidgeted with the watch he had given or of how he saw right through Charon’s relationship with Nyx and actually inquired about it, as if he truly cared. The way he had kissed Charon when no one else was around to see. 

That wasn’t who Charon was. He wasn’t someone who got hung up on personal relationships, whether it be with his mother or his coworkers or his false boyfriend for an evening or two. This was just another transaction, services for compensation. This fixation was merely a temporary distraction. 

That was what Charon kept telling himself. 

That and he wasn’t nervous. 

Because he was. 

His collar snapped down into crisp clean lines, wrapping around the thin black tie. He clipped a gold tie pin into place and it stuck out against the dark grey of his suit. He had never wondered if he had looked presentable before, his own personal style being just that: his own. 

But Hermes had called him the ‘last remaining hipster’ and Charon had spent far too long trying to decipher if that was good or not. He had never questioned how he looked, but suddenly he second guessed everything he owned. 

He settled for the most boring thing in his closet, knowing Hermes would outshine him anyways. 

Charon sat down and pulled out what had to have been his third cigarette of that afternoon. Maybe fourth. It had been some time since he idly smoked like that, chaining them back to back. He pulled out his phone, rereading Hermes’ address to make sure he wouldn’t forget it. 

He wouldn’t. 

Charon’s nerves built on a single premise. His feelings about Hermes were changing. He wanted to dig his heels in and deny it and push against it, but the ebb and flow of the inevitable dragged him down. Charon had a little time until that crescendoed, but for then he could still sit uncomfortably in the knowledge that what they had was a farce and all Charon could do was pay for it. 

That oncoming wave Charon kept ignoring made him nervous and he wondered when it would come crashing down on him. Or if he was drowning already. 

He supposed he’d find out. 

Charon flicked ash into the glass tray in the foyer, put on his jacket, and headed out the door. 

____

Hermes’ apartment really was abysmal. With some of the older run down buildings in the city, they had a history of handsomeness, when they were young and new, but Hermes’ apartment didn’t even manage that. From the vantage point of his car he could see the cracks in the glass windows and the crumbling brickwork. He was pretty sure the first step of the stoop was a lawsuit just waiting to happen. 

Charon put out his fourth (or fifth) cigarette. He pulled out his phone to text Hermes that he was there, when the ball of human sunshine came bounding out the door, as if he had been waiting. He hopped over the hazard step onto the sidewalk, looking better than Charon had anticipated. 

Dressed in the suit they had bought together, the gold filigree birds caught the last lights of the setting sun, making them glint orange. His smile was somehow brighter than that, tinged with the usual hints of mischievousness, knowing secrets Charon would never be privy to. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing perfectly sculpted collar bones. His sudden rush from the apartment slowed half a step towards Charon’s car and he slid his hands lackadaisically into his pockets. 

Charon blew out the last remains of his smoke and stepped out of his car. 

“Hey there boss, how you doing?” Hermes asked. “You’re looking positively dapper tonight. Plan on wearing the hat all night?” 

“Hrrm,” Charon grunted. 

“Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, now would it, and I would expect nothing less.” 

Charon ignored the way his heart pounded in time with Hermes’ speech patterns. He glanced down the whole ensemble, as if he didn’t know what it already looked like, and saw the dress shoes from their first encounter. Charon almost preferred he put on those winged affairs they had picked out. Or the running shoes he’d chosen for himself. 

Hermes twisted in place, showing them off. 

“Yeah, I was hoping to get away without wearing any socks, really show off the tatts you know?” he said. “But these puppies won’t allow that. And hey I was thinking, you should get a tattoo.” 

Charon’s brows rose and he looked back up to Hermes’ grinning face. 

“I’m going to take a _wild_ guess,” he said, taking a threatening step closer. “That you don’t have any.” 

Charon huffed, but didn’t give Hermes the dignity of an answer. 

“What I think,” he said, stepping right into Charon’s personal space. “Is that you should get that big old coin of yours, you know the one you’re so protective of, right. . .” 

He circled his finger in the air before planting it squarely on Charon’s chest, just over his heart. 

“Here.” 

Charon begged to whoever was listening that Hermes couldn’t feel his heartbeat through that finger. From the way he cocked his head and his smile went sly, Charon wasn’t sure his prayers had gone through. 

Hermes hooked a finger into Charon’s tie knot and loosened it, pulling it free in one go. 

“Doesn’t suit you,” he said, flinging it over his shoulder like a cheap coat. 

Charon popped the first button of his shirt, nothing more than that. He wasn’t as brazen as Hermes was. Hermes’ smile widened and it was practically feral. He breathed in deep and clapped his arms at his side. 

“Well, grandma, you ready to drive?” he asked, going for the passenger door. 

Charon furrowed his brow and frowned. 

Hermes opened the door and when he saw Charon wasn’t following suit, he rolled his eyes and laughed. 

“Oh come on, you drive this poor boat like its made of glass,” Hermes said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone keep the speed limit in this city like you do. Are you going for a record or something? World’s boringest driver.” 

Hermes waved his hand through the air, punctuating each word, as if reading a newspaper headline. 

Charon pinned him with a blank stare before digging into his pocket and pulling out his car keys. He tossed them underhand and Hermes caught them out of the air. Gone was that smile, all that remained was wide eyed awe as he stared at the keys. He tilted his head slowly and his mouth pulled into another dangerous grin. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he said darkly. 

Charon really didn’t. 

He side stepped his date and took the passenger door from his hand, waiting for Hermes to move out of the way. Hermes bounced in place for a few seconds, his mouth curling in on itself in excitement, before he pushed past Charon. He was around the car and in the driver’s seat long before Charon sat down. Charon moved the passenger seat back to accommodate his legs. 

The engine roared as Hermes revved it. He turned Charon with a wide manic smile. 

“Buckle up, buttercup!” he warned and peeled into the street. 

Charon had never truly looked death in the eye before. The old adage of seeing one’s life fly before their eyes had been nothing more than a saying, but in that moment it became truth. Charon’s back hit the seat and he swore the city turned into a blur outside his windows. He held onto his hat as if it may come off before scrambling for his seat belt. 

Hermes made a mockery of the heavy traffic of the inner city. He wove Charon’s wide set car in and out of far safer, slower drivers as if it were made for speed instead of luxury. He blasted through a red light, slid down the streets, as smoothly as a duck swimming through water. 

“Hey where are we going anyways?” Hermes asked.

Charon had to strain to dig his phone out of his pocket, his legs braced hard against the floor. He held it up for Hermes to see and immediately regretted it. Hermes’ eyes darted quickly between the road and the phone and somewhere a horn honked. Charon rightfully presumed it was for them. 

“Damn we’re going the wrong way,” Hermes said and pulled hard on the wheel. 

Tires squealed. There was more honking. Charon gripped the roof handle. The big car pulled down an alley that it was too large for and probably a one way. Charon hoped they were going the right way. 

Hermes made it to the function hall in half the time it would have taken Charon and he pulled into the parking lot at the same speed he had been driving. The car came to a screeching halt in the valet line and it rocked in place. Charon lurched forward with it and his back thunked hard against the seat. 

Hermes grinned at him. 

“We’re here,” he said smugly. 

Charon slowly looked side long at the man who just tried to murder him. He had to pry his grip from the handle one finger at a time. Heart thudding and knowing just how bad of an idea it was, he circled his finger in the air. 

Hermes’ eyes went wide and his smile dropped. 

“Once more around the block?” he asked. 

Charon simply held back on. 

Hermes thunked the car back into drive. 

“You spoil me Daddy.” 

Hermes cackled as they peeled out the parking lot, leaving behind confused valet attendants in the dust. 

____

Hermes was attached to Charon’s arm again when they entered. He went to remove his hat and leave it in the coat rack but Hermes’ _’leave it on’_ was far too enticing to not obey. Charon broke his self imposed rules and kept the offending garment on. 

Hermes leaned up against him, looking around at Charon’s old coworkers, new coworkers, employees, and partners. Quick, clever eyes darted from person to person, cataloging new faces with great interest. Charon watched him, observed him. Took in the details of his face. 

Hermes’ smile widened and his face lit up. 

“Hey, wasn’t he at the other thing?” Hermes asked, pointing rudely. “Your brother’s thing. The party. That guy. He was there.” 

Charon followed his point to Hades. The big man stood out over the crowd as an imposing figure, almost threatening. Charon had seen how his employees shrank from him, had seen him bark out orders during their negotiations. That was one way of running a company he supposed. He ran his son, Thanatos’ fiance, the same way. 

He would not get the opportunity to do the same under Charon’s partnership.

A little woman about half his size stood at his side and from the rock on her finger Charon took a wild guess that she was Hades’ wife. Charon had a hard time picturing him married and briefly wondered if he found a fake wife sugar baby off the internet too. 

Charon leaned in to Hermes to explain the nature of their relationship. 

“Yeah yeah yeah boring work stuff,” Hermes said, already dragging Charon to the big man. “Come on, introduce me. Lets go say hi.” 

Charon did not want to say hi. He wanted to glue himself to the wall and stay there for the rest of the night. But he had a social butterfly on his arm and he had already spoiled him this much already. 

Hermes dragged Charon through the crowd, pushing past the Sunshine Squad and beelining to Charon’s newest partner. He drove Charon like he drove Charon’s car. Hades noticed just seconds before they arrived and turned to give his full attention. 

“Charon,” Hades said, dropping his name like a curse. 

Charon nodded back, giving the man only that. 

A tense silence hung between them, thick and heavy as Charon dared Hades to blink. The chatter of the room around them became muted in Charon’s ears. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermes’ head whipping back and forth between them, his smile only growing wider. The tiny woman at Hades’ side elbowed him harshly. He jolted in place and took on the same demeanour he had in negotiations when he learned Charon would not back down from his unwavering demands. A guarded sheepishness that he pretended he didn’t have. 

“This is my wife,” he said. 

“Persephone,” she said long before he could and shot out her hand. 

Charon inspected it for a long moment, but before he could accept, Hermes was shaking the offered hand. 

“Hermes,” he said and shook enthusiastically. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Persephone said. “This is Hades of Hades House.” 

Hermes nodded, still leaning possessively on Charon’s arm, and rested a gentle hand to Charon’s chest. 

“And this is Charon of Styx Associates,” he said. 

For some reason, Charon hadn’t expected Hermes to know or remember any details about his job, but the boy had a mind like a steel trap. 

“Charon,” Persephone said slowly, almost like a song. She turned to look at him, a thousand times more intimidating than her husband. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Charon’s eyes flicked to Hades. He was sure she had. 

The air hung tense and silent again, much in the same way it had for the last year. Charon, entering his conference room or one of Hades’, staring each other down with a visible disdain of having to go through the mutually beneficial merger. Both of them fighting and scratching for what they wanted to bring to this new company, both vying for power. But both of them knew that Hades needed Charon more than Charon needed him. That if Charon so chose, he could take his ball and leave and the two of them could go back to competing in the market as Charon slowly whittled Hades and his little House down to dust. 

This little celebration felt more like a concession. 

Hermes tapped Charon’s chest twice. 

“Well we just came here and I’m pretty parched,” he said. “I was going to go get us some drinks, care to join me?” 

“I would love to,” Persephone said, detaching from Hades’ side. 

Hermes’ arm slid out from Charon’s and Charon shot him a wide eyed glare. This was precisely the _opposite_ of what Hermes said he would do. 

“Gin, right?” Hermes asked with a wink and walked off with another man’s wife. 

Charon watched his traitorous date disappear into the crowd. When he could no longer see the glimmer of his coat, he turned back to his new partner, who looked just as abandoned as he felt. 

Hades shifted in place, slipped one hand in his pocket, before at least attempting. 

“So the Athens account,” he said. 

Charon almost thanked him, sliding into a conversation where they were most familiar. It may turn into another argument, but it was better than awkwardly standing there in silence. They commiserated on the difficulty of the client and the allocation of resources. Hades’ _opinions_ of how it should be handled was beginning to play on Charon’s nerves when a martini glass filled Charon’s vision. 

He recoiled from the attack and followed the arm down to Hermes’ familiar smile. The irritation instantly dissipated. Charon carefully took the drink. 

“Its been very nice getting to know you,” Hermes said quickly. “But I fear we must make the rounds. Can’t have this guy hiding the whole night.” 

He pat Charon on the back and Charon didn’t have it in him to be offended. 

“It was nice talking to you,” Persephone said and took her husband in the opposite direction. 

When they were alone, Charon shot his date a scathing glare. 

“Hhhmmm,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“Oh come on,” Hermes laughed. “The man is _terrified_ of you, you have to see that. He practically pissed himself when he saw us coming over. It was _hilarious_. I couldn’t help myself, torturing him like that.” 

“Mmm.” Charon looked away and took a sip. 

“Besides, _huge_ asshole.” 

Charon laughed into his drink and it almost came out his nose. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle any liquid and laughter, his shoulders shaking from it. He knew it, he had his own opinions of Hades, but he would never be so brazen to say them out loud. He unfurled and looked down at Hermes. 

The look he got back was teetering on that borderline of genuine again. Wide eyed in awe and a smile filled with a simple joy. He breathed in deep and shook his head, sliding up against Charon’s side again like a safety blanket. 

“Anyways, heres the hot gossip going around,” he said. He pointed deeper into the crowd. “So Orpheus from HR over there is having this on again off again secret affair with one of your agents, Eurydice I think. Anyways, thats made all the more difficult now that they work for the same company. Theres some shady shade who I’m pretty sure is skimming from the top, didn’t get their name. There are these three gals somewhere who keep insisting they know where the market is going to go, although I’m pretty sure one of them has insider knowledge. And be nice to that Dusa girl, she’s trying her best. She put so much effort into this night.” 

Charon stared incredulously down at the man on his arm. 

“What?” Hermes said, bringing his glass to his lips. “I work fast.” 

He gave another little wink and took a swig. 

“Oh, and also.” He pushed in closer, leaning his head against Charon’s arm. “Theres this little rumor that the boss came in with a hot young thing on his arm, which is so weird right?”

Charon snorted and shook his head. 

As it had been with Thanatos’ party, Hermes took the lead. He met with new people, basically introduced Charon as either their existing boss or new boss. Some of Charon’s underlings were really meeting him for the first time. Or rather, the picture Hermes painted of him. 

It was remarkable. Hermes was an expert liar, Charon had seen that, but he hardly seemed to need to lie that evening. He talked about anything and everything. He led conversations, even if the other participant did most of the talking. He brought light to them, to himself, to random topics that he pulled out of the air. And everything he said about Charon was the complete truth. From his mannerisms to his chain smoking down to his coin collection, garnering attention from Charon’s employees that he never had before. 

Hermes painted him as a person. 

There were embellishments here and there, little details that implied a far longer relationship than what they had, but it wove so naturally into the narrative that Charon almost believed it himself. 

“Y-you look so relaxed, mr Charon sir,” said the little member of the Sunshine Squad. Dusa, Hermes had called her. 

She tried to maintain some semblance of a smile, but when Charon said nothing, her resolve crumbled. 

“Okay bye,” she said quickly and ran off into the crowd. 

Hermes smacked his arm and Charon flinched, glad his glass was empty and there was nothing to spill. 

“I said be nice,” Hermes hissed. 

“Mmm,” Charon grunted as a rebuttal. 

“That was not nice,” Hermes said. “You’re making the face. You know the face. _That_ face. The one you’re wearing right now.” 

Charon shook his head and placed a hand on Hermes’ back. It had been such a natural motion, almost reactionary. He hadn’t realized what he had done until his palm was firmly pressed against Hermes’ shoulder. 

Hermes smiled, sly and coy, and only slid into the touch before Charon could take it back. 

It was later in the evening and Charon actually found himself engaged in conversation. Eurydice, an agent who worked with more international markets, was far more interesting a person than he gave her credit for. Hermes had managed to pull out a secret passion for cooking, but seeing her boss with his guard down, she revealed a more cutthroat side and took the opportunity to bend his ear. Boredom was evident on Hermes’ face. 

“I’m only saying we should invest in more Spartan subsidiaries,” Eurydice said, enunciating words carefully and swirling her drink. 

Charon had a rebuttal, but Hermes snatched him aside. Charon stumbled at the tug. 

“Listen, this is fun and all, but I’m a firm believer that work talk belongs at work,” he said. “I’m going to steal him back and get a bit of fresh air if you don’t mind?” 

Eurydice laughed and glanced to her boss. 

“Do what you have to,” she said. “See you later, hon.” 

Hermes all but dragged Charon away before he could say anything. 

“She was talking to me, don't worry,” Hermes said, patting his arm. 

Even in the heat of the season, the night air was cool. They stepped out onto a veranda that looked over a neat, well groomed garden, complete with artistically sculpted shrubbery. Stars were all but absent, blotted out from the lights of the city. In the distance, Charon could hear the thudding bass of music. 

He leaned his elbows against the wrought iron guard rail and breathed out slowly. The socialization of the night had unexpectedly gotten to him. At some point he had grown tense, anxious, and it had gone unnoticed. Stepping out and away from the fray raised quiet alarms that he was exhausted from expending so much social energy. 

But stopping meant going home. 

Going home meant ending the night. 

Charon wasn’t quite ready for that yet. 

He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. The nicotine would help calm him down. He rested the cigarette between his lips and cupped it to protect his lighter from the wind. Before he could get in the first puff, the cigarette was delicately plucked from his mouth. Fingers curled around his lapel to drag him down. 

For as rushed as it was, the kiss was shockingly gentle. Charon clearly remembered just how soft Hermes’ lips had been on his cheek, but it was an entirely different experience to feel them against his own. Hermes' aim had been true, finding just the right sweet spot. The fullness of his upper lip slotted so neatly between Charon's and it dragged, wet and warm as he pulled away. He tilted his head, tugged on Charon's lapel again, and Charon could feel the curl of his smile. 

Shock could only wear on Charon for so long before he fell into the kiss. Relaxation far greater than what a cigarette could bring rested on Charon's shoulders. He leaned where Hermes willed him, eyes sliding closed. Just long enough to see Hermes put out the cigarette and flick it away. His obstacle long gone, Hermes had won. 

Hermes would always win. 

Tenderness had never been something that was given to Charon. Intimacy was so far forgotten that it might not have been remembered in the first place. Time for such things was a luxury he could not afford. To have it simply given to him, pressed up against him, dragged down into it, was without cost. 

He reached up tentatively to brush against a warm cheek. He had forgotten just how hot Hermes ran and his skin warmed Charon's chilled fingertips.

Hermes laughed, just a puff of air against Charon's lips. 

"Careful now," he said. "Too much PDA will give us away." 

That's right. 

It wasn't real. 

Charon flinched away, his hand hovering just shy of Hermes' face. If Hermes noticed, he ignored it, and went in for one last chaste kiss. 

A show for Charon's family and coworkers. An oddity. How strange, how weird that Charon, _that_ Charon, would show up with someone at all, let alone someone like _Hermes._ Unexpected, that someone like Hermes would be with someone like him. 

Unless he was paying him. 

Hermes pulled back, his smile soft and warm and cusping on that edge of genuine again. A perfect little liar that managed to worm his way into Charon and make him believe things that simply weren’t there. Even with Charon a part of the farce, he became one of its victims all the same. 

When he wasn’t looking, the wave came crashing down on him, beating him bloody and senseless upon the shore. And there was no more ignoring it. 

Hermes took Charon by the hand and guided his arm to wrap around Hermes’ shoulders. He leaned into Charon’s side, lacing their fingers together, and rested his head with a heavy sigh. 

Charon wanted it to be true. He wanted to have this moment be real. But it couldn’t. 

There was no instance where they would have found each other naturally. Hermes’ world and Charon’s simply did not intersect. Hermes would never have chosen someone like Charon and there was no situation in the world where he would willingly stay at Charon’s side. 

Well. One situation. 

_looking for sugar daddy ;)_

Hermes brushed his lips across Charon’s knuckles, looking for the world like they shared intimate moments such as that on a daily basis. 

Charon’s mind turned with ideas of making that a reality. 

____

Charon drove him back home. The big black car pulled up to the curb with a cool smooth grace, barely distinguishing from moving to stopped. A sleepy lazy thing, in a dreamlike drunken state where the edges were fuzzy and the world was not quite real. 

Hermes leaned his head against the glass and it cooled his mind. He had closed his eyes, taking in the flash of street lights on the back of his lids as the car crawled down the streets. 

Charon had given him the gift of driving again, something with a little bit of power, a little get up and go. It wasn’t the sports cars Zeus could provide him, but it had been so long since Hermes felt that kind of speed under his control. He had forgotten the freedom and the release. It wasn’t the price of the car he drove, it was simply the power. And for that, Hermes was thankful to Charon. 

He didn’t even mind Charon’s slow ease back home or the quiet of the ride. 

He just wanted to enjoy the time they had. 

Before Hermes could turn and talk, tell Charon some other banal cheesy thing, Charon was up and out of the car. He walked around the front in long legged brisk strides. Hermes watched him for a moment before he realized what the tall man was doing and laughed to himself, almost embarrassed for him. 

Charon opened his car door. 

Hermes almost didn’t get out. The cool night air hit his arm from where he rolled up his jacket, chilling the watch on his wrist. He unbuckled his seat belt and accepted Charon’s hand out of the car. 

“Thanks,” he said. “You know I _do_ know how dumb this sounds, but I really did have a good time tonight.” 

Charon still held his hand and Hermes didn’t pull away. 

“You’re a good time.” 

_’I have fun with you.’_

Charon was a far cry from the strict man Hermes had first met. He was still there, but Hermes began to see little pieces of him underneath the quiet facade. How his pale eyes jumped from side to side in an effort to look at Hermes’. The ghost of a smile on his lips. 

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. Hermes recognized the app from last time. 

“Oh no no no no no,” he said, resting his hand on top of Charon’s phone. “You already paid for this month’s rent.” 

Charon’s brow furrowed and gone was that tiny smile. 

“And besides, you already bought me really nice running shoes,” Hermes said. “We can call it square.” 

He gently pushed Charon’s phone, folding it against his chest, and hiding the pay app from view. Charon still stared at Hermes, trying to assess the situation and confused by Hermes’ refusal. 

Hermes did not want his money. 

“You have a good night Charon,” he said. 

That seemed to sate him. He sighed, the confusion gone and that blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile back. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and Hermes’ heart leapt into his throat. He sucked in a quick breath, jolting, maybe even leaning away. Just enough to give Charon pause. 

And he didn’t want Charon to pause. 

Instead Charon turned his head and rested his lips against Hermes’ cheek. Just as Hermes had done to him so many weeks ago. Hermes’ eyes fluttered closed and a slight smile curled on his lips. He couldn’t help it. 

Charon was slow to pull away. 

“Good night Charon,” Hermes said, far quieter than before. 

As much as Hermes wanted to linger and have the night continue, Charon stepped away. His hand slipped out from under Hermes’, he got into his car, and the engine turned over. Hermes walked to his apartment, almost floating, and behind him he could hear Charon pull away into traffic. He paused, one hand on his door, and watched Charon stop at the light. Hermes lifted his hand, far too heavy to really do so. It could have been a wave goodbye or it could have been Hermes reaching out, he wasn’t sure. He hoped Charon could see him in his rear view. 

When Charon’s car disappeared down the road and out of view, Hermes stepped inside. He leaned his back against the door and held his hand to his lips, trying to think, but coming up with nothing. The steady tick of the watch clicked in the quiet of the foyer. 

He trudged up the steps, each leg feeling sluggish and heavy in a way he hadn’t felt before. His head swam and a pleasant smile graced his lips. 

That blanket wrapped sensation of comfort and safety still encapsulated him, a residual effect of each encounter with Charon. He had thought it had come from the money, from having that landing pad and stability of tomorrow, but it was _nothing_ like the comforts of Olympus. Nothing like that at all. 

Hermes didn’t bother to turn on the light and landed face first on his futon. He smiled into his sheets, nuzzling into his pillow. Laughter bubbled up in him and he giggled past his grin. He sighed as he came down and clicked off his watch, settling it down on his pillow where it had laid, every night, for the past few weeks. 

Hermes slept next to the watch like it was a stuffed animal. The sound of its ticking an odd ASMR that lulled him to sleep. And there it was, glinting in the sunlight when he woke. 

He stroked the face and looked up to his open window. 

The sad little flower sat slumped over in the plastic wine glass Hermes got with Dionysus. Its spray painted blossom was far too heavy for its stem and it was beginning to wilt. Petals had fallen onto Hermes’ windowsill and the inch of water it lived in was tinted a dirty shade of blue. 

Hermes reached up and plucked the flower from its cup and pulled it down into bed with him and his watch. He ran his fingers over the petals, holding one between his finger and his thumb. It plucked free easily and he set it aside. The next one came out just as effortless. He laid that petal next to its brother in a neat row. 

Hermes went for the third and he paused. His heart dropped and thudded deep within his chest as he realized what he was whispering in his mind. 

_he loves me_

_he loves me not_

Hermes rolled over onto his back and looked up at his dark ceiling with wide eyes. 

“Oh. . . shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUGGGHGNNNNGGFFFF THE PINING THIS IS SO STUPID OISDJFOASIJ 
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)


	5. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how fast he ran, his working mind always caught up with him. 
> 
> He liked Charon. He _liked_ Charon. Like some little grade school child, he had a stupid silly crush on Charon. His stupid rich, sugar daddy, fake boyfriend. 
> 
> He liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I don't even know what to say here. Enjoy? Sure, I hope you enjoy :V

Brand new shoes of a week had already been broken in and crunched on the gravel at a breakneck pace. In the grey of the morning just before dawn, the only sounds were birds, the heaving of panting breaths, and the pounding of feet on the ground. 

Hermes pushed himself, working himself up until he could no longer think. His focus solely on his body, on his form, on his breathing. Running hard enough to put him into a meditative state where he was too exhausted to have a reasonable thought. 

Mist coiled up off the river, the cool water dissipating in the oncoming heat of the day. It was going to be another hot one and Hermes’ unairconditioned apartment would be painful at best. Not that it was much better at night. 

Not that he could sleep lately. 

Hermes gulped in another big inhale of air, trying to catch his breath. He was pushing too hard, his body complaining that he had gone too far and it wouldn’t be particularly happy that he had to run the whole way back. 

At least his new shoes were up to the challenge. 

Shoes that had been bought by . . . 

Hermes stumbled, idle thoughts creeping into his mind again. He almost ate pavement, but managed to catch himself at the last minute, arms windmilling for balance. He stopped in place, heaving great breaths, and leaned over with his hands on his knees. 

No matter how fast he ran, his working mind always caught up with him. 

He liked Charon. He _liked_ Charon. Like some little grade school child, he had a stupid silly crush on Charon. His stupid rich, sugar daddy, fake boyfriend. 

He liked him. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen. That had _never_ happened before. Sure, he had never gone on weird little ‘dates’ where he was just given money to make someone happy, but he’d hooked up before. Meaningless interactions that never scratched the surface beyond what they were intended for. 

But fake dating Charon had been more intimate, more _real_ , than any of those had been. 

It wasn’t the money or the stuff or the paying for rent or any of that. It was the way Charon listened and paid attention to him. The way he didn’t seem to mind Hermes’ ramblings, hell even seemed to like it. It was the way he spoiled Hermes, not with stuff but with acts. How he just let Hermes _be himself_ and that was enough. 

Charon didn’t have to do that, he had proven that he could stop Hermes at any time. Charon had all the power in their little relationship. Hermes was supposed to be following his lead, but in the end it was just the other way around. 

And the little things, the _little things_. The watch. The flower. The way he held off smoking. Listening to Hermes’ suggestions and the idle touches and just how _safe_ Charon made Hermes feel. 

He hung his head again. Sweat dripped from his hair. His hands coiled around his knees. 

He had a crush on Charon. 

“Fuck,” Hermes said for the millionth time that morning and the 10 billionth time that week. “Fuck.” 

He had left his phone at home. It was a precautionary measure. So many times Hermes had opened up their chat and typed in some stupid prompt for a conversation. 

_hey_

_how r u?_

_i miss u_

_can i see u?_

_i like you_

That last one was written on a particularly pitiful sleepless night. Hermes had gone for a walk and had typed it out at 3 in the morning and _almost_ sent it. How embarrassing would that have been, for Charon to wake up to see _that_ on his phone. 

Hermes died of shame and deleted the damn message before he could do any lasting damage. 

Exhausted from running and miles away from home, Hermes definitely would have sent something to Charon. 

He sat back on the grass, wet with dew. His hands flopped between his knees and he hunched with awful posture. His chest still pumped, trying to get the air he needed. 

The worst part was the fantasies. What it would be like to actually date Charon. At first Hermes tried to tell himself how dumb that would be, a way to stave off any hopes or desperations. That Charon was from some high society world that sat in the lap of luxury all day. And true Hermes was also raised in that life, but he never really fit. A square peg in that overly complicated hole. 

Fantasies still slid in so easily. Of Hermes with Chraon in that world, holding him by the arm and whispering horrible things in his ear, making him do that quiet little laugh of his. Far away from the rest of it, a quiet little bubble that belonged to them where no one could touch them. 

Or he could just as easily drag Charon down to his level. Charon would follow, Hermes knew that for sure. He’d follow wherever Hermes dragged him. What he wouldn’t give to see that man try to eat a burger in a fast food joint. 

Hermes caught himself smiling again, a pained little thing. He hid his face in his hands and grinned, just thinking of Charon. Confused, upset, pouting, terrified, laughing, amused, content. Serene. Impossible Charon. 

Hermes kicked his legs in the grass and pulled his knees in tighter, whining between his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he laughed. 

It seemed like every emotion was assaulting his body in a coordinated attack. Sheer joy of having known Charon and the crushing defeat of what if he didn’t like him back. Nerves to actually get up the gumption to say something and the anxiety of actually having to press send. Laying in bed listening to Charon’s watch tick, remembering the scent of cigarettes and after shave. 

Hermes burst to his feet and booked it back home in an effort to once again out run his feelings. 

The sun was up and the day was beating down heat just as Hermes had suspected it would. He didn’t stop his pace when he got to his door, didn’t stop as he bolted up the stairs, and still did not come to a complete halt until he was in his little room. 

And promptly hit with emotion again. 

There was a push notification on his phone. 

It sat innocently on his bed, plugged into the charger, overheating from the sunshine coming from the window. He had a few emails, a reminder to drink more water, and a single notification. From the dating app. 

A message. 

Hermes leaned against his door, staring at the innocent envelope shaped icon, before scrambling to his bed. He snatched up the phone, bouncing it between his hands, before he opened the message as fast as he could. 

**Charon:** _Have dinner with me Friday night._

Hermes still hadn’t caught his breath yet. He stared at the words without blinking, reading them and rereading them again. His thumbs shook hovering over the screen. Finally his fingers moved to answer. 

**Heremes** _u have another event?_

 **Charon:** _No._

The noise Hermes made was probably the most undignified sound that had ever escaped his lips. He smacked a hand over his mouth and breathed like a bull through his nose. He climbed up onto his bed. 

This couldn’t be right. This wasn’t happening. 

**Charon:** _Just us._

Another horrible sound and Hermes flopped over. He held the phone between both of his hands, mere inches from his face. 

Was this a date? It sounded like a date. Hermes should ask if it was a date. But what if Charon said no. Did he actually want to go? What the hell was he supposed to wear? What were they going to _do?_

Eat food for one. 

**Heremes:** _sure_

Hermes threw his phone across the bed and hid his face in his hands. He curled up around himself and tried not to think too hard about it while simultaneously thinking too hard about it. He smiled but it was more of a ghoulish grimace. His legs kicked back and forth, his skin prickled from the heat and sweat and overwhelming crawl of anxiety and joy. 

A date. It had to be. 

Hermes peeked at his phone between his fingers. Cocked between folds of his blanket, the screen still on and he could read it from there. 

**Charon:** _I'll pick you up at 7._

____

A cool calm confidence rested over Charon like a second skin. Ever since that little _'sure'_ popped up on his phone, Charon felt like he could breathe again. Finally, for the first time since meeting Hermes, Charon had regained some control. 

It had taken a couple of days of fretting for Charon to come to terms with what he wanted and what he wanted was Hermes. To listen to him go on about anything and everything, the way he moved his hands, the coy smiles, the devious glint in his eyes when a thought Charon wasn’t privy to flew through his magnificent mind. The way his fingers slid between Charon's, how close he got, the way his lips felt against Charon’s. 

All of it. 

His revelation was a hard pill to swallow. The sugar coating dissolved away to the bitter reality that Hermes did not look at him that way. Sure his eyes twinkled when he looked up at Charon, but that was just how his face was. 

Charon believed the lie, along with everyone else. He kicked himself for falling for the little conman. What a stupid thing to do and Charon was hardly ever prone to stupid. 

He blamed Hermes entirely. 

But after nearly a week of pacing and thought, Charon gave up on his self pity and decided he would be okay with letting the lie continue, but under different circumstances. 

He would pay Hermes for his company. Hermes _had_ said he was looking for a sugar daddy and at the end of it all, Charon decided he could do just that. He wanted Hermes at his side and Hermes had rent to pay. 

Charon would pay for it. 

That _’sure’_ sealed the pact. 

He pulled up to the sad crumbling building Hermes called a home and looked up at it. In the dark, it was far worse. A light flickered on the third floor. He could hear music coming from one of the rooms and it wasn’t just the bass but the full track, lyrics clear as day. Charon put on his hazards and thought of buying Hermes a new home, if he so wanted. A place he deserved. 

Charon stepped out of his car to wait. 

He was early, eager. He wanted to see Hermes again. Someone like Hermes was sure to be punctual. From his continuous narrative, it was a quality Hermes stressed on. Whether it was his delivery jobs or complaining how some of his family would be late, Charon correctly suspected Hermes never would be. 

In fact, he had been so sure Hermes would be a few minutes early, like Charon. 

Charon pushed down a pathetic jolt of disappointment when Hermes didn’t come bounding out of his apartment like he had last time. Instead, he scooped up some patience, lit a cigarette, and waited. 

He had the whole night planned. From top to bottom, he would shower Hermes with attention and gifts, any little whim Hermes had, Charon would provide it. It would be a little much, he knew that, but he was prepared. Right out the gate, he had to show Hermes how far he would go to fit into his new role. 

Charon had done a little research. Testimonials from other sugar daddies and sugar babies. What they looked for in a relationship. It was little more than a business exchange. Money for goods and services. At the core of most, it ended in sexual relations. That wasn’t particularly what Charon wanted. If it happened, he wouldn’t be opposed, but at the end of the day. 

He just wanted Hermes. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Hermes stepped out of his apartment with a little more grace than he had the last time. He still hopped over the broken last step like he was flying, a practiced motion he did with little thought. 

For his safety, Charon would _definitely_ find Hermes a new apartment. 

“Hello,” Hermes said, drawing the word out like a song. His voice was all it took to make Charon’s heart do summersaults. “And don’t we just look dashing this fine evening?” 

Compliments were hardly ever thrown Charon’s way, but they rolled off Hermes’ tongue with the greatest of ease. Charon was oftentimes on the receiving end of criticisms for how he looked, how he dressed, how he acted, but even when Hermes poked fun at Charon, they had an air of fondness, like he didn’t want Charon to change. 

A very good liar. 

Charon flicked his cigarette away and opened the car door for Hermes. Another extension of just how much he wanted to spoil the man. 

“Thank you,” Hermes said with a little bow of his head and slid inside like he belonged there. 

Charon’s heart thudded, his hand going into his pocket for the next part. It felt like giving up a part of himself, but Hermes had taken that much already, what was one more. 

Hermes looked to Charon, his eyes unblinking and laughing in the dark, staring at him with expectation. 

“Hi,” he said, far more intimate than the initial hello. 

Charon spun his finger in the air. 

“What? Oh! Okay.” Hermes always got it, knowing just what Charon was saying without the tedious need for words. He turned in his seat. 

Charon pulled the necklace from his pocket. 

He had been enraged when he first saw it. A perfect obol, cleaned and restored with care. Recovered from a dig and put on sale. 

With a hole drilled in the top. 

It had been defiled for the sake of an accessory. To be worn rather than preserved as it should have been. Charon had a fondness for jewelry, but to do such a thing was sacrilege to him. 

Until he decided what to do with it. Until Hermes.

It was a symbol. To give up something that was so precious to him, to give it to Hermes, a show that Hermes had him, all of him. That he was willing to give Hermes whatever he wanted, right down to his most prized possessions. 

He gently clasped the necklace closed and smoothed out the chain on the back of Hermes’ neck. When Hermes turned around, holding onto the coin between two fingers, Charon saw that it was the perfect length, sitting perfectly where it ought to. 

“Is this from your collection?” Hermes asked. 

Charon nodded solemnly, leaning back in his seat. 

“Huh.” Hermes stared, his mouth slightly ajar, until a smile cracked along his face. “Thanks. It matches the watch.” 

He jiggled his wrist in the air and the watch danced, the appropriate amount of room to jiggle back and forth. Charon was decorating Hermes as his, matching Hermes to his own style, and somehow it fit. 

They would be a matched set. 

Charon turned over the engine and pulled away from the curb. 

Hermes was dressed down that night. He wore the clothes Charon had bought for him, but in a combination that was shockingly neutral. Gone was the peacocking he’d had at the functions Charon had dragged him to, replaced with something that was deceptively simple. Cream colored button down shirt and black torn pants. Save for the winged sneakers Charon had got for him, catching the light as they tapped on the floor. It might have been mistaken for a nervous tic, but Hermes didn’t get nervous. 

“So where are you taking me anyways?” Hermes said, whipping his head to look at Charon. “Should I be concerned? Are you taking me to the woods to murder me? Dinner and a show, might be fun.” 

The events of their night should be a surprise, Charon supposed. Every step was carefully chosen to impress Hermes, to spoil him. To give Hermes a little taste of their future together. 

Hermes bit his lip. His shoes tapped a little faster. He fiddled with his watch. 

“You know maybe I should have bought you flowers or something,” he said. “After all you already got me flowers and I think its only fair to–” 

Charon waved his hand, hushing Hermes. He didn’t have to get Charon anything. This relationship was the other way around. And next time Charon would get him something proper. Something a little more pricey than a spray painted pansy. 

“Oh. . .,” Hermes said. “Okay.” 

He leaned against the window, pressing his cheek against his fist. 

“I’m gonna do it anyways, you can’t stop me,” he muttered. 

Charon smiled, endeared at Hermes’ affections. False as they may be. If Hermes wanted to carry this farce on with flowers, Charon would let him. He would never do anything to stop Hermes. 

Hermes sat up a little and let out a small barking laugh. 

“Damn,” he said, turning his head to follow what caught his attention as they sped past. “That lady is going to get her phone stolen, holding it up like that. What is that? Looks like the newest model, its practically tricked out with all those lights. Are those rhinestones? Who puts rhinestones on their phone anymore? Just get something functional like the rest of us and be done with it. Thats just a status symbol. I would prefer something with a good camera instead of a name.”

Charon had seen Hermes’ cellphone a couple of times. It was a few models behind the times. Charon made a mental note to get him a new one, something with a good camera. 

“Do you always drive in silence like this?” Hermes asked, leaning to the dash. “Come on, lets get a little bit of background music. Set the mood.” 

Charon didn’t need music, but he didn’t stop Hermes either. It seemed Hermes hit his stride, falling into the normal speed with which he talked. There was that moment of hesitation and Charon recalled the way he apologized for talking. Hermes could do as he liked, be as he liked, and Charon would melt at the sound of his voice. 

He talked of music, of entertainment, of technology. He talked about Charon’s car and the people outside. He talked and Charon listened. 

They reached their destination and Charon found his typical parking garage. It was close enough to his work, but far enough that it allowed him a little bit of a walk, and had enough security that he felt secure leaving his car there. Hermes’ chatter died down as they pulled into the valet and walked to the elevator. 

The music in the elevator managed to play half a bar before Hermes picked the idle conversation back up. 

“Anyways, my brother says this show really jumped the shark at the 6th season,” he said, talking about a show neither he nor Charon had seen. The way Hermes siphoned off little details about his home life, his siblings, who he was, Charon coveted every one. “And I said point me to a show that didn’t do that, but then again he swears he can taste what grape is in what wine. I think he’s full a shit. You might like him. Actually I’m not sure who you’d like in my family,” 

Hermes laughed and Charon swam in it. The elevator shuddered to a halt. 

“I got a big family. A big mess of a family. Lots of half brothers and sisters, my dad was a slut. Is a slut. I dunno, ignore me.” 

Never. Charon’s palm itched with the need to touch Hermes and he gave in. He rested his hand on Hermes’ shoulder, just to have that connection, but also to let Hermes know it was fine to talk about whatever he wanted. 

Hermes looked up at Charon and took a deep breath in, ready to start another run on narrative. 

“All I’m saying is if our roles were reversed, I would never have invited you to meet my family on a fake date,” he laughed. “I would never subject anyone to that. How’s Nyx?” 

It was one thing to hear about Hermes’ family. It was completely another to talk about his own. 

Maybe in time. 

Charon’s hand slid down Hermes’ back, fingers bumping into the chain of his necklace. _Hermes’_ necklace. It belonged to him now. He gently pushed between Hermes’ shoulder blades and urged his date to step out onto their floor. 

It was an open air shopping mall, perfect for that time of year. Charon barely went there on his own, preferring to have his needs delivered to his home. Far too many people for his liking. He had never liked crowds, a further extension of his misanthropic tendencies, but Hermes liked people. He liked meeting new people, being around people, talking to people. He was sure Hermes would enjoy what Charon actively avoided. 

It was beautiful at night. The dark canopy of evening sky over head and lights lining their way into the mall. They would walk through it and anything that caught Hermes’ eye was his. Then and there, right away, with no hesitation. 

“Are we eating in a food court?” Hermes laughed. 

Hermes was insufferably adorable. All it took was one look around to know that a place like that wouldn’t have something so banal as a food court. Charon smiled at the joke. 

The first step of his show, convincing Hermes to stay by his side. He held out his hand over the mall, silently telling Hermes he could have it all if he so chose. 

Hermes’ bubbling laughter died down. He looked over his domain and slowly back up at Charon. 

“Are we . . . shopping again?” he asked. 

Charon nodded. 

“Oh.” 

Hermes looked out over the mall, taking in the stores, and Charon waited anxiously to see where they might go first. 

“I. . . I don’t think I’m in the mood.” 

Cold shock raced through Charon. That went against everything he read. Repeating their impromptu ‘date’ from the other day was a good chunk of his plans for that evening. Of the time they’d get to spend together. Time going from store to store, listening to Hermes talk, finding out more about it. Seeing those tattoos again, maybe. 

But Hermes cut that short. 

Charon looked out over the mall, his expectations dashed, and he could not fight the disappointment. 

A warm hand slid into his coat and found his elbow. Fingers that had been calloused from bike handles ran over the exposed skin of Charon’s forearm. Charon looked down to see that smile, almost pitying. Hermes jerked his head, tugged on Charon’s arm, speaking Charon’s language to just move forward. 

To walk together. As one. 

Far better than what Charon had planned, Hermes was always two steps ahead of him. Charon led the way. 

They walked slowly, in an effort to stall their time together, to draw it out, to make it last longer. Hermes kept silent, but the hand on Charon’s arm spoke volumes. The proximity and closeness feigned the visage of endearment and Charon felt himself falling into it again. As much as he repeated into the back of his head _’its not real its not real its not real,’_ the very real Hermes at his side sucked Charon into the fantasy. 

He allowed himself to be dragged down. 

Hermes stopped short and Charon jolted at the sudden brake. His head swivelled first to Hermes’ wide eyes and then to the object that had caught his attention. 

“Oh damn,” Hermes whispered. 

Charon had liked to come to the open mall when no one was there, long before opening or after it was closed. No one dared stop him, no one ever dared to stop him. So he had seen when the designers of the show room carefully drove the electric sports car down the center of the mall and guided it into place. He had seen the wallpaper images displaying the car zooming past a serpentine seaside mountain road. A fantastical indicator of what the owner _could_ be doing with such a vehicle. The lighting all situated to bounce gleamingly off the golden curves of the car. The doors hung open, the kind that opened up rather than out, showing off black leather interior. Showing off the speed and monstrous velocity of a machine only few could handle.

And Hermes was smitten. 

He muttered a string of unintelligible words under his breath and Charon thought he heard numbers. 

Wide eyes jerked to look up at Charon, looking like a kid in a candy store. A shaky smile trembled at the corners of his lips.

"Oh shit, sorry I must've." Hermes laughed and Charon felt it against his skin. "Lost myself a little there. That's a little embarrassing. C'mon, lets go." 

No. Hermes wanted something. Finally he found something he wanted. And Charon was determined to show what a _good_ daddy he could be. 

Charon guided Hermes towards the car. 

That smile gained some of his signature confidence. 

"Maybe just a peek," Hermes said. "But if we're late on our reservations I'm calling it your fault." 

Hermes practically skipped to the car with a glee that made Charon’s heart palpitate. This was what he had been expecting, the full nature of their relationship. The first truly real reaction from Hermes. 

Charon was pretty sure Hermes didn’t have a car. Even if he did, there would be no where to park it in that cramped little neighborhood. And a car like that, it would get stolen for sure. 

Hermes deserved a car. Not just some utilitarian thing, but he deserved a machine that moved how he wanted. Charon’s cars were nice, but they weren’t built for speed, not the way Hermes drove. Hermes deserved to have the freedom of the open road and the power to ride it. He deserved to drift perilously down winding mountainsides, wind whipping through his hair like he was flying. 

Hermes could park the car at Charon’s. 

Hermes ducked into the driver’s side like he already owned the vehicle. And he pretty much did. He bit his lip, his fingers curling tight around the steering wheel. 

He belonged there. 

Charon rested his hands on the frame and leaned in to gaze upon his date. Hermes jumped out of his daydream, coming back to earth, startled by Charon. He pulled away from the wheel like it was on fire. 

"Sorry, I know I'm a bit of a freak," he said. 

Hermes should never apologize. Not for anything. 

Charon found the sales rep standing in the corner of the room, watching them like a hawk who watched her prey. A polite smile permanently etched on her face. Already tasting the blood in the water. 

Charon signalled her over. 

Like a javelin at top speeds, Hermes was out of the car, a strong hand on Charon’s chest, the other held up to the sales rep like a shield. 

"We're fine!" he shouted, voice echoing in the showroom. "We're fine, we're fine!" 

Before she could take a step towards her prey, the sales rep nodded once, and settled back into her corner. Hermes turned to stare daggers up at Charon. 

"What are you doing?" Hermes hissed. 

Charon froze, that hand on his chest more powerful than he had imagined. A strength that could pin Charon down, second to those angry eyes. Something akin to fear underneath them. 

"Don't. . . don't. Don’t buy me a car," Hermes said. “Just don’t.”

But. . . wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? Wasn’t that what Hermes wanted, what he had asked for? Charon’s brow furrowed and he looked away. They’d have to have a talk about this, define what it was that Hermes was looking out of this partnership, so Charon could act more accordingly. 

At least Hermes knew that there was no cap. 

"Can we just go to dinner?" Hermes muttered. "I'm. . . I'm starving. I just want to eat. Just put food in my face." 

Charon looked to the car that Hermes could have, then back to his date. He desperately wanted a cigarette. He sighed and held out his arm. Hermes looked to his elbow, hesitating to slip his hand back inside, before conceding and they could continue on their date. 

They walked through the remainder of the mall and Hermes didn’t so much as say a word. His head was tilted down, looking at his shoes, and Charon felt a pang of worry. Had Hermes not wanted the car? Was he upset that Charon almost bought something he didn’t want? It would have been fine, he could just get the right thing. 

All Hermes had to do was ask. 

Hermes fiddled with the necklace around his neck, playing with the coin, and it soothed Charon’s nerves. At the very least, Hermes liked that particular gift. 

The one that mattered. 

They walked alongside the river that cut through the city, twinkling with lights from the buildings that ran alongside it. The chill from the water crept up Hermes and he leaned in closer. 

"Sorry," Hermes said, quietly. "I can't think of anything to say." 

Charon pulled his arm away from Hermes to wrap it around his back. He ran his hand down Hermes’ spine, feeling that shiver crawl up it. An affectionate pet to soothe down his date. That there were no expectations of how he should act, just that he stayed there. 

Hermes’ dark eyes flitted up to Charon. 

With a gentle touch, Charon pressed Hermes in the direction of a small building. One of Charon’s favorite restaurants. He would walk to it at the end of a long day. It was expensive, sure, but worth the price. And perfect for wining and dining Hermes. 

The noise and laughter inside told Charon that many others had the same idea and that it would be packed. A full house on a Friday night. It made sense. 

It wouldn’t be an obstacle. 

Continuing with engrained manners, Charon held the door open for Hermes, and he marched in without so much as an acknowledgement. The hostess at the stand was straightening out menus and looked up with a congenial smile. Hermes leaned against the stand, crossing one leg over the other.

“Hello there,” she said. “Do you have a reservation?” 

“Do we?” he asked, turning to look up at Charon with a flat stare.

Before Charon could answer, the hostess recognized Charon and jumped.

"Oh right this way sir," she said, picking up two menus. "I didn't know you were coming tonight." 

Hermes’ eyes narrowed on Charon, still standing at the hostess station, before he turned to follow her. There was something Charon was missing, a step he hadn’t taken, and he watched Hermes stiffly walk into the dark of the restaurant. 

The hostess led them to Charon’s usual table in the back, away from the hubbub of the rest of the world where he could watch the chef’s work their magic. He usually preferred to sit with his back to the restaurant, so he wouldn’t have to look at or hear anyone else, but Hermes marched right up to that seat. Not questioning his choices, maybe he wanted to watch the kitchen like Charon did, Charon pulled the chair out for Hermes to take it. 

Hermes sat down like an automatic reaction. 

The hostess left menus behind, setting one in front of Charon and the other in front of Hermes. She nodded professionally, but Charon hardly noticed. 

As it always was, his focus was solely on Hermes. 

Even in the low light, even in a plain white shirt, Hermes was a stunner. With a few buttons popped to show off tanned skin, hair brushed back but still looking wild, curls kissing the back of his neck. He lifted the menu, his mouth pressed into a thin line, thick brows pushed together in intense thought. 

Charon was enamored. He was taken. He let himself fall into the lie. 

Charon made his decisions on his meal and looked to the wine menu just to make sure they had the bottle he preferred. It was quick work and when he looked up again, intense dark eyes were fixed on him. Hermes examined him as he had the menu, as if deciding what it was he wanted. 

Charon folded his hands and waited. Waited on the conversation and the back and forth. Waited on questions about his own family and stories about Hermes’. Waited to hear about how life was going, how he was doing, anything, just _something_. 

But Hermes only sat, still and quiet, still deciding. 

Hermes’ eyes dropped to the clean tablecloth. He took a quick breath in, sighing in a puff. Hiked up shoulders shook slightly. He cleared his throat and the brilliant Hermes lit up the dark of the restaurant. 

“So I got a new job,” he said, in that roller coaster way. The climb and the first drop before he took Charon on a ride. “Well kind of, not really. Its a gig by gig basis kind of thing. I’m pretty sure its illegal. Yeah pretty sure. Yeah that shit is illegal. I think they have me running drugs. I don’t ask so I don’t know, you know? Whoever is running that scam is beyond me. They can do whatever they like, I won’t tell the cops and neither will you.” 

Hermes smirked and pointed a stern finger at Charon. Charon didn’t know what to say to that. Hermes didn’t have to degrade himself to questionable jobs like that. Well, other than the one he had with Charon. He didn’t have to work at all. He could live in luxury and comfort. If he wanted a job, it could be for pleasure, to keep busy, not because he needed one. 

Charon would make sure of that.

“Its only for a little bit anyways,” Hermes continued. “Until I have enough–” 

He paused, as if his tongue were suddenly too large for his mouth. His eyes widened and he froze. Rather than finish his sentence, he picked up his water and downed it in a few swift gulps. 

Hermes was . . . off. There was something not quite right. This was a side of Hermes Charon had yet to see. Not the smooth swift man he’d taken to parties, but . . . 

He _was_ nervous. 

Nervous looked _wrong_ on Hermes.

A question sat thick on Charon’s tongue, wanting to reassure his date that there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about. He reached a hand out to gently rest over Hermes’ own, but the waiter chose that moment to come over. 

“Can I get you something for dinner?” he asked with the same polite tone the hostess had. 

Charon ordered the wine. It was a favored bottle, from the grapes down south. He was sure the brother Hermes had mentioned a handful of times would recognize the flavor, possibly be impressed. But it was not his brother Charon had in mind, but the man himself. 

He ordered dinner for himself and with that out of the way, the waiter’s expectant eyes turned to Hermes. 

Hermes stalled.

“Oh. . .uh. . . I . . . hmm.” Hermes stared at the menu in question. There wasn’t a lot to choose from the pared down menu for the already tiny restaurant, but still Hermes fumbled on what he wanted. “Um. . .” 

Charon did not know what was going on and it was a little distressing to watch. His ever quick to respond, whip smart Hermes fumbled over his words. Charon decided to help Hermes out. He was a runner, right? So a healthy order of carbohydrates should work. 

Charon put in an order of pasta for Hermes. 

Hermes’ head shot up. He stared, wide eyed at Charon, silent as the grave. There was a look of fear in his eyes and something deep within Charon echoed it right back. As if Hermes might crawl over the table to commit violence. 

“Very good,” the waiter said and stepped into the dark of the restaurant. 

Hermes was a statue, frozen still, his hands coiled hard around his menu, simply pinning Charon down with a steely eyed glare. Without looking away, he fumbled for his glass of water only to find it empty. He brought it to his mouth still, a subconscious reaction, to drink the nothing in it. 

Charon did not know what to say to help Hermes out of this malfunction he was in. 

Hermes didn’t talk for the rest of the dinner and Charon had to listen to the beat of his own heart. He tried to spark up some sort of conversation, to bring up Hermes’ job again, to ask about the food, but Hermes only responded with slight nods. Charon steadily finished a glass of wine over the course of the meal, but Hermes left his untouched, and the majority of the bottle stayed filled on the table. It looked like Hermes was eating, but he only took a few small bites here and there, moving the pasta around the plate and mucking with the sauce. 

His eyes down the entire time. 

Charon paid and they left as one. Hermes was quick to get out of there, out into the fresh air, and when he left the cloying heaviness of the restaurant, Hermes took a deep breath in. Charon mimicked it in relief. 

He’d never take Hermes back there. It was too much, Charon knew that now. 

Hermes looked over his shoulder to inspect Charon with silent questions. Waiting on his lead to take them to the last stop of their date. Charon was relieved that it was just the restaurant that was the problem, the tight walls, the enclosed space. Of course Hermes wouldn't appreciate such a setting. He needed those wide open spaces, that only made sense. 

And their last stop was just that. 

The confidence Charon had started the night with returned. They walked side by side, Hermes following Charon without standing behind him. Alongside Charon. 

Just down the way was a museum and attached was her garden. The museum had once been the home to an heiress, who hoarded art in her travels, and made an exquisite garden that wrapped behind the building. It was privately owned and maintained by the fund she had set up, but Charon had always admired it for what it was. He had visited the museum in the past, a lover of fineries and art, but the garden had lacked his patronage. He wasn’t one for lush plant life and swelling blooming blossoms. Fluttering butterflies simply wasn’t a part of his purview. 

But it was objectively gorgeous. And Charon wanted to share pretty things with Hermes. 

They stepped up to the velvet rope that sanctioned off the garden entrance, the sign hanging from it reading _Reserved for Private Party._

“I don’t think we’re allowed in there, boss,” Hermes said. “Can’t you read?” 

Charon’s heart swelled at the pet name. Feeling singular and special to Hermes, as Hermes was to him. He looked back over his shoulder at his date and unclicked the rope. 

There had been no need for reservations at the restaurant, but he wanted the time with Hermes all to himself. No other people, just him and the flowers. 

Hermes’ shaky smile dissipated. 

“Oh,” he said.

With a small smile and no miniscule amount of pride, Charon opened the gate and placed a hand on Hermes’ back. Hermes stumbled a half step forward, shot Charon a look out of the side of his eyes, before casually stepping into the garden. 

The garden at night was a world different than seeing it through the museum windows during the day. The butterflies that had been transported to live in the garden had all fallen to nocturnal slumber. Lights lined the twee brick pathway that curved its way through bushes and shrubbery, showing off stations where flowers bloomed and little placards that gave away their names. String lights wrapped around less important bushes and draped in the mesh canopy above. 

Despite it all, Hermes outshone every single flower. 

Charon watched him meander down the pathway, hands folded behind his back. He would pause, read a sign, where the flower had come from, take in all the information for him to regurgitate to some blessed fool later. 

How Charon wanted to be that fool. 

Hermes stopped in front of an orchid, almost as old as he was, and only bloomed once in a blue moon. He stared down at it and the shadows on his face skewed it almost into a beautiful melancholy that broke Charon’s heart. 

Charon couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He walked to Hermes’ side, to where he belonged. His hand trailed up Hermes’ arm, convincing the tension to die down and for Hermes’ hands to unfurl from behind his back. Hermes’ hands dropped limp at his sides. Charon’s hand continued its trek up, to Hermes’ shoulder. Hermes shifted, his body turning to face Charon. Charon’s hand cupped Hermes’ chin and Hermes followed the motion. His head turned, his eyes looked up, big and open, the soft glow of the garden bouncing off them. 

This time, Charon initiated the kiss. 

He rested his lips gently against Hermes,’ trying to take cues from him, trying to be as simple and as sweet as the man had been when kissing him just a week ago. He cupped Hermes’ face feeling fine soft skin under his fingers, the curve of Hermes’ cheek a gentle swell. Hermes sighed, his breath warm against Charon’s face, his body going slack. A small whimper, barely imperceptible, crackled in the back of his throat. Hermes leaned into it, his head going limp and heavy, pushing hard and resting his weight against Charon’s lips. 

Charon pulled back, unable to stop the happiness in his chest, the butterflies that weren’t there but lived inside him. He went in for more. 

“What is this?” Hermes whispered. 

Charon stopped. He froze, mere millimeters away from Hermes’ lips, tasting the unique flavor that Charon had been dreaming about since their first kiss. He pulled away, just enough to look down at Hermes. 

His brows pinched together, turned up in pity and confusion. A soft pout sat on his lips. They were close enough that Hermes’ eyes had to bounce back and forth to look into Charon’s. 

“What are we doing here?” he asked. “What is happening?” 

Charon’s hand fell from Hermes’ face. He gave his date a little more room. 

“What do you want from me?” Hermes asked in a voice so painfully small. 

Wasn’t that obvious? Hadn’t Charon made his intentions clear? Hermes certainly had and Charon was only trying to live up to Hermes’ expectations. 

They were alone. It was as good a time as ever to explain. 

So Charon did. 

He told Hermes all he had read about. How that they could have the sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship that Hermes wanted. He would gladly give Hermes whatever he asked for, shower him in gifts. Be it phones or cars or a new apartment. Travel to fancy places and stay in nice hotels, go to the finest restaurants and the most exclusive clubs. He would foot the bill for whatever Hermes desired, he would pay for it. He would give Hermes rent. He would give him an allowance. It was up to Hermes to set those limits, for Charon had none.

And all Charon asked for in return was for Hermes to continue his farce. To pretend to be his boyfriend, not just to lie to family and friends, but as a false relationship between the two of them. To simply stay at Charon’s side and nothing more. Whatever boundaries Hermes had, he could make them and Charon would respect them. 

All Charon asked is that he would stay. 

Those were his terms. 

As Charon talked, Hermes’ face contorted. His pout turned into a deep frown. His brows knit together, pressing hard. His mouth curled into a sneer. His shoulders hiked up high and he took a shaking step back. 

At Charon’s pause, Hermes took another. His hands rose, another shield. As if to protect himself from Charon. 

“No,” he said. 

The word so small and fragile and it broke something deep within Charon. The sweet heat that had cast over the entire evening, the expectations, the sheer amount of hope that Charon didn’t realize he had, shattered at the tiny little word. 

“No,” Hermes said again, his fist going to the coin around his neck. “No, I don’t want that. No. Absolutely no.” 

He tugged hard on the necklace and in the quiet of the garden, Charon could hear the clasp break. The sound a sheer mimic to the one in his heart. It clicked as it fell forgotten to the ground, lost under the shade of dark shadowy plants. 

"I don't want any of that,” Hermes said, shaking his head furiously. 

Charon didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words, not like Hermes was, and he had given his all. To show that he could provide Hermes exactly what he was asking for. 

And Hermes wanted none of it. 

Charon reached out, wanting so desperately to pull Hermes close to him. To hold him tight. To kiss him again. 

Hermes smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ll take the train home.”

Hermes turned, shoving his hands into his pockets, and marched the twisting path out of the garden. Charon watched him weave in and out of the bushes until he could no longer see him. 

And for the first time in his life fet truly and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHARON
> 
> BUDDY
> 
> HOW ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS!? 
> 
> Anyhoo, my face was just one big midsommar sized frown the whole time writing this bc CHARON PLEASE 
> 
> I actually didn't know who's perspective to write this from so I wrote it twice to see which was better. If you want to read Hermes' POV, I posted it here:  
>  **[FROM THE OTHER SIDE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225674)**
> 
> Sorry for this :V 
> 
> [Look at this AMAZING art from @cam3ulia](https://twitter.com/cam3ulia/status/1341823639591800834?s=19)
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)


	6. Anything and Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon wasn't there to double down, he wasn't there to insist Hermes take him up on his offer. That moment was long gone. 
> 
> He was there to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah last chapter was a bit of a doozy huh? 
> 
> well let's see if we can stick the landing

Charon paced back down the street and pulled the cigarette butt out of his mouth. He slapped out another cigarette from the package, the last one if the hollow noise it made was any indicator, and used the smoldering ashes of the previous cigarette to light the next. It had been years since he’d gone through cigs like that, but it had been years since he’d been that stressed. 

He headed back down the sidewalk, half marching to the decrepit apartment, before whirling around again to duck behind the corner. He walked in the direction of his car, pounding his fists angrily at his sides, mentally repeating the mantra of _stupid stupid stupid._

It had been a word that had been in his head all week. On repeat. 

Charon put a hand on his car door and even got as far as pulling on the handle. He contemplated cutting his losses and just driving away, never to see that crumbling apartment again. 

Cutting his losses. Like Hermes was some kind of business deal that had just fallen through. 

At one point, in Charon's mind, it had been. A transaction. From the very beginning. He was only interested in continuing their professional relationship. In any other scenario, when Charon's rather aggressive negotiating tactics failed, he chalked it up to time lost. Move on. 

But most other business deals didn't keep him up at night. Other deals didn't puncture a hole in his chest. 

Other deals didn't hurt. 

Charon slammed the car door and stomped down the block again. He rounded the corner and stared at the door with the peeling paint and the broken stoop. 

He wasn't there to double down, he wasn't there to insist Hermes take him up on his offer. That moment was long gone. 

He was there to apologize. 

Charon didn't fully understand why, but he knew he'd hurt Hermes. From the anger in his face and the coiled tension in his fists as he walked away, Charon knew Hermes had been hurt. And that he'd been the one to do it. 

Charon just wasn't sure why. 

He remembered Hermes insisting he wasn't a prostitute, but Charon didn't care about that aspect of their relationship and he thought he had made that abundantly clear. Or maybe it had been the car. That had been too much too fast. He could go slower. 

Charon stopped in his tracks right there. He squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his arms tight across his chest. He took a long painful drag off his cigarette and the burn crept quickly up the paper. 

No. He had to set aside thoughts like that. Thoughts of how he could come at Hermes differently, how he could prove himself to be what Hermes wanted. 

He looked at the front door, glaring under the brim of his hat. 

He was there to apologize. 

Even that Charon didn't know if he had the right to. He knew an apology wouldn't make it right. It wouldn't strip Hermes of his anger. It wouldn't reverse what had happened. Charon knew he was there for himself. 

He gazed down at his shoes and plucked his cigarette from his lips. 

Charon kept playing it out over and over again, double guessing and questioning where he had gone wrong. 

He shouldn't be there. He shouldn't have kissed Hermes. 

Charon turned to head back to his car, when the front door to the wretched apartment opened. 

A young lady stepped out of the apartment, talking to the air. She must have been on the phone, speaking into a mouthpiece. She took the same hop skip over the broken step as Hermes did. Moving on instinct, Charon power walked to the apartment. He flicked his cigarette away and caught the front door with one hand. And just like that, he was inside. 

Charon stood frozen in the foyer, wondering what to do next. He should leave, some non trivial part of him still screamed. That he should get in his car and drive away and try to never think of Hermes ever again. Try not to think of his laugh and his smile and the way his eyes crinkled when he was thinking of something that pleased him. 

The mailbox said he lived in 2A. 

Charon trudged his way up the stairs, looking carefully at the second floor landing until 2A's door came into view. His heart thudded heavy in his chest. His limbs became weightless. He practically floated up each step. He was a ghost by the time he stood in front of Hermes' door. 

He knocked. 

The groan and clatter from the otherside of the door gave Charon's heart a little leap. The steps on the other side lasted a lifetime. Then the door opened. 

Charon got a brief glimpse of Hermes, his face contorted into a surprised grimace, before the door was slammed in his face. 

Which was about what Charon deserved. 

He wasn't sure on the next steps, on what options he had left to choose from. His mind and body short circuited, trying to come up with next actions. He rose his hand to knock again. 

"Go away, Charon," Hermes said from the other side of the door. 

Well. That was that. He supposed. 

Charon's hand lowered, creaking slow to his side. His eyes dropped, tracing the peeling paint on the door and not seeing a single detail. Any confidence he had scraped up deflated away, leaving nothing but his husk. Charon sighed, a short puff that sounded like bitter laughter. There was nothing funny about it, but the sick little reaction flew from Charon regardless. 

He had to go. If there was one thing he wanted, it would be Hermes' happiness. Whatever he wanted. And if he wanted Charon gone, Charon would go. 

Working on autopilot, he found a scrap of paper in his pocket and a pen. He scrawled out the note. 

_i am sorry_

Charon crouched and slipped it under the door. He had come to apologize, he had apologized, and that was all he could do. Charon rose to standing and headed back to the stairs. He rested his hand on the end post, his hand fisting around the wooden cap. Another ugly laugh left him involuntarily. 

He had one foot on the first stair when the door behind him creaked open. 

Hermes leaned against the frame, arms crossed, flapping the note in the air. His jaw ground to the side and he glared at the ground. He took heavy even breaths and a long moment passed before Hermes' icy glare lifted to pin Charon in place. 

"For what?" he asked. "Exactly." 

For the date, for Hermes' anger, for _himself_ , for everything. Charon was sorry for everything. 

He held his hands out at his sides, flopping uselessly in the air, indicating all that he was sorry for. That didn't seem to be the right answer as Hermes' jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Charon seemed to be incapable of saying what Hermes wanted to hear. 

The pathetic apology note flicked again, the paper snapping with Hermes' irritation.

“How about when you tried to buy me a god damned _car_?” Hermes said. “Or the part where you _ordered_ for me? Like I couldn’t order for myself.” 

Charon winced. So that had been too much. On reflection, Charon saw how bad it might have been to order for Hermes, to take away his autonomy like that. 

He nodded. 

“Or how about when you started throwing your money around, as if that were impressive,” Hermes said. He flicked the note again, crinkling the paper. 

That confused Charon. Wasn’t that what Hermes said he wanted? Charon had been so sure that was what Hermes wanted. 

Standing in Hermes’ hallway, he just felt loss. 

He nodded for that too and apologized regardless. 

“Or when you stopped paying attention to me.” Hermes’ voice cracked. His jaw jut out. His brow furrowed in concentration, holding up the wall that held back his anger and hurt. “When you stopped caring. When you stopped being the man I fell for. The man I fell so _hard_ for." 

That shot a streak of cold through Charon. He stood up a little straighter. It hit Charon all in a rush, all at once. The sheer impact of Hermes’ words. 

That Hermes chose to be around him not for money. 

But because he wanted to be around Charon.

Those quiet kisses at parties that Charon had taken him to. How Hermes linked his arm in Charon’s. The fragility when he talked, when he asked Charon if Charon wanted him to stop and Charon never wanted him to stop. The way he curled in on himself and asked Charon to stop spending money on him. The _’sure’_ on his phone. The man who had vehemently turned down Charon’s offer to sugar daddy him. The man who stood in front of him, absolutely miserable and enraged from the failed date they had. 

Charon _finally_ fully understood why. 

He stood dumbly in Hermes’ hallway, simply staring down the man he had fallen for, not knowing what to do or what to say. 

“Or how about,” Hermes seethed. It was difficult for him to get the words out for once, clamping his jaw shut in an effort to make his lip stop quivering. “How about the part where you thought you could buy me. Or where you thought I could be owned. How about those. Is that what you're sorry for?" 

Never. Absolutely never. Not even in a million years. Not even when he thought Hermes wanted a sugar daddy. It was the other way around. Hermes had owned Charon from the second he walked through his door. Charon never wanted to buy Hermes. He just wanted some of his time. 

Charon furiously shook his head, his hands raising, wanting to explain that he just wanted to give Hermes the world. He took a step forward and Hermes backed further against his door frame. His heated gaze dropped to the ground, unable to even look at Charon. He scanned it, looking for the answers Charon failed to give him. 

“You know what,” he muttered. “I don’t want this.” 

Hermes’ glare flicked back up to Charon and he could feel it pierce through him. Hermes held the note up and wrapped his fingers spider-like around it, crumpling it up in his fist. 

“I don’t want your apology,” he spat and threw the paper ball at Charon. It hit true and bounced off his chest. 

Charon already knew to expect as much. He knew that before he slunk into Hermes’ apartment. He should have just gotten back in his car and let Hermes be. 

But the new knowledge of how Hermes felt made him stay. He took another step closer. 

“And I don’t want. . .,” Hermes said desperately, disappearing into his apartment again. He returned holding up a handsome looking suit on a cheap hanger. Charon recognized it as the suit he’d given Hermes from their first meeting. “I don’t want this!” 

Hermes threw it at Charon and Charon did his best to catch the offending garments. 

“Or . . . or these.” 

Next came the pair of winged shoes. A sole caught Charon on the chin. 

“And I don’t want this!” 

Hermes fumbled with the watch he still wore on his wrist. He was in such a frantic state that it didn’t immediately unclasp and he had to really focus on it. After a second fumble, he managed to hook his finger under the clasp and it dangled limp over his hand. 

“Here!” he shouted, chucking it onto the pile in Charon’s arms. “I don’t want any of it!” 

He scooped up the brilliant yellow jacket from the floor and it hit Charon square in the face, a sleeve flopping over his hat. 

Charon held still and took it all.

“I don’t want it,” Hermes said, breathing heavily. His angry facade began to fade, crumbling into something more delicate. A deep frown etched onto his face and eyes glossy as he stared at Charon. 

“I want you!” 

There it was again. Stated plain and explicitly. The very thing Charon had dismissed as being possible was still held true. 

Hermes’ hallway was shockingly quiet after the outburst. The sounds of him attempting to catch his breath heaved heavy in the silence. The clothes in Charon’s arms began to slip free, no longer important as they fell to the ground. 

Hermes took in a deep shaking breath and stood up straighter. Bracing himself for what came next. 

“I want you to stop buying me things," Hermes says sternly. "Stop treating me like something you can just buy, like I’m for sale. Stop throwing money at me.” 

Charon nodded, just a small jerk of his head and took a shaking step closer, stepping on the fine suit on the floor. 

“Just treat me like you did before.” Hermes’ voice was clogged. “Listen to me again. Pay attention to me again. Laugh at my stupid jokes again. Not like I’m expected to say anything, like you’re waiting for me to _do_ something, but just let me be.” 

Charon could do that. He wanted to do that. He could do that for Hermes. Easily. 

Another step closer. 

“I want you to look at me the way you did before,” Hermes said. He had to look up at Charon as he drew closer, but he was no less strong in his stance. “Like I’m special. Like I matter.” 

Charon nodded again, his hands coming up. He wanted to touch Hermes, to feel him, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. 

“Don’t give me that person you are to everyone else,” Hermes insisted. “Be the incredible, wonderful, dumb hipster dork I met before. Before you thought you knew what I needed and stopped listening to me.” 

Hermes was so close, but Charon kept his distance. He wasn’t allowed, he hadn’t been invited. He did as Hermes said and _listened_. 

“I just want you to be you,” Hermes said hushed. “And I just want you to let me be me. I just want you to love me.” 

Charon agreed. He agreed and agreed and agreed. He couldn’t agree enough. 

“I don’t want you to be my sugar daddy,” Hermes said. “I just want you to be my boyfriend.” 

He took one last shaking breath in and squared his shoulders, head tilted back to look up at Charon, but he was a thousand feet tall. A towering figure on the pedestal that Charon had put him on. He didn’t blink. He didn’t stand down. 

“Those are _my_ terms,” Hermes said. “Do you think you can do that?”

It sounded like permission. Charon rested his hands on Hermes’ cheeks, holding him close and fragile. He pressed his head against Hermes,’ shrouding them in the shadow of his hat. Charon wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t dare, Hermes becoming nothing but a blur in front of him. 

Charon nodded. 

“Good,” Hermes whispered. 

Charon wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, maybe they moved at the same time, but he found Hermes’ lips, just as soft as he remembered them. It wasn’t the playful kisses that had been pretend or the stale stiff kiss of an angered Hermes. In that moment, they shared their first real honest kiss. 

Hermes moved with Charon until he took the lead. He lined them up just so, taking Charon’s lips wet and opened mouthed between his own. His tongue ran over Charon’s lip, almost tentative, a far cry from the confident man Charon knew from the second he saw him. Charon pressed in closer, his grip on Hermes’ face tighter, giving Hermes everything he asked for and urging him to _be himself again._

Hermes grabbed Charon by the lapel. And did just that. 

With something akin to a whimper, Hermes dragged Charon down, dragged him closer. He pressed his body fully against Charon’s own, wanting to crawl up him, inside him, be as close as possible. He tilted his head against Charon’s hands, twisting to meet Charon’s mouth just right, to taste him just right. A clawed hand snaked around to Charon’s back and fisted his shirt, nails digging in through the fabric. 

Hermes was all passion and fire and movement. Want and need and everything that Charon would have of him. 

All Charon could do was hold on for the ride. 

When Hermes finally slowed down, he pulled away languidly, his lip tracing up for another taste. His breath shook in a soft gasp for air and he kissed again, one last time, lips trailing slowly. 

Charon felt abused, his own mouth swollen from the kiss, but Hermes pressed his head to Charon’s again and there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“I made a mess,” Hermes rasped. 

Charon shook his head. Hermes did nothing wrong. The mess wasn’t his, it belonged solely to Charon and Charon alone. It was Hermes who put them back together again. 

“No I mean.” Hermes stepped away and indicated the floor where the clothes lay scattered. “I uh. . . yeah. Threw a bit of a tantrum.” 

He scooted his leg forward and hooked his ankle on the jacket, kicking it back inside his apartment. Charon bent down and picked the shirt up off the ground between his fingers. The plastic hanger fell out of the neck and clattered against the old wood. Before Charon could do anything about it, Hermes took his hand. 

Charon halted. 

Hermes looked up at him, that same solid way as he had been that afternoon, but the ire was gone. His hair mussd from where Charon’s hands had ran through it, looking just as handsomely ruffled as he always did. The little bit of light from his apartment glowing in through the crack in the door giving him a halo. 

The corners of his lips quirked. 

“We should probably talk,” he said. 

Hermes turned, tugging Charon along behind him. Charon let the shirt fall from his fingers and left it in the hall forgotten. 

It wasn’t important anyways. 

____

Trains, in Hermes’ opinion, were far too slow. The car had stopped just shy of the station and Hermes could see the platform from the door window. He held onto the rail like a good little passenger, almost pressing his face to the questionable glass, and bouncing in place. His over stuffed messenger bag slapped at his side.

“Come on,” he said to himself. “Come on come on come on.” 

It would have been faster had he walked. 

“Come. On!” he ground between his teeth. 

The little old lady in the seat next to him shot him a look, but he didn’t give her a second thought. He could be impatient if he wanted to. His patience had been taxed for the last week and it had since run dry. 

The train need to move just a few more yards and. . . 

The car jolted and smoothly slid into place. Hermes was out the door before it was all the way open, nearly barrelling over the commuters stupid enough to stand in the way. He pushed through the crowd, creating his own path. 

He was technically early, if the schedule was to be believed, and had plenty of time to find a good spot, but that wasn’t the point. He pulled out his phone and looked at his text messages again. 

_I’ve landed._

_Be there in 15._

Nothing more since then, but Hermes knew he’d be waiting for him already.

Hermes took the stairs two at a time, pushing past people slower than him and ignoring looks of surprise and disdain. He all but burst up into the burnt autumn sunset, the world cast into a golden pink glow that bounced off the skyscrapers that surrounded the park. It wouldn’t last for long and Hermes would have time to savor it later. 

In that moment he kept an eye out for a bean pole who stood a head taller than the crowd in a hipster hat. It wasn’t long before Hermes caught sight of his target. Without breaking stride and picking up speed, he closed the gap. 

“Charon!” 

Charon turned just in time to catch an armful of Hermes who all but came flying at him. He staggered backwards as Hermes landed heavy against his chest, arms wrapped around his torso, and face pressed into his coat. Hermes nuzzled in closer, taking in a whiff of cigarette smoke and the special kind of scent that came from pressurized air in airline cabins. He squeezed hard until he heard a soft wheeze above him. 

“Missed you boss,” he said with glee and felt a gentle pat on his back. 

No matter how punctual or prior to punctual Hermes tried to be, Charon always had a way of being exactly where he was needed, not a moment too soon or late. Always waiting for Hermes. 

It had been a full week since he had last seen his boyfriend, the longest they had gone without seeing each other since they had first gotten together. Charon had some stupid business thing or another where he had to leave the country, likely story, and Hermes was left sulking in his apartment with too much time on his hands. 

He was more than ecstatic to have Charon back to fill it up again. 

Judging from the wheeled suitcase at Charon’s side, he had come directly from the airport and was just as eager. 

Hermes pulled back and rested his chin on Charon’s chest, beaming up at him. 

“Hey,” he said. “How ya doing? Well, I hope. You don’t look like you’re rested, still jet lagged? I think I can–”

Charon leaned down, cupping Hermes’ cheek and placed a brief but gentle kiss to his lips. Charon was a man of few words, but such a simple action spoke volumes. _’Hi. I missed you. I’m happy to see you. I love you.’_

It slowed Hermes down. 

Charon pulled away and Hermes smiled heavy lidded and honey sweet up at him, still leaning against his chest. 

“Help you with that,” he finished. 

Hermes wriggled excitedly, unable to hold still and buzzing with energy. Charon, who was still getting used to it, simply stroked his face and held up his other hand. A paper wrapped flower held in it. 

Hermes didn’t much like it when Charon bought him gifts, the sting of their first date still having not died down, but he had a weakness for flowers that Charon exploited. To the point where every friday evening Hermes expected a modest flower in hand whenever he saw Charon. Hermes was getting quite good at keeping them alive longer. 

He gave his boyfriend a _look_ and snatched the flower out of his hand. 

“Thank you,” he said petulantly. Let it never be said that Hermes didn’t still keep his manners. 

Hermes slid into place at Charon’s side, his arm into Charon’s, and lead the way. Charon fumbled to lift the handle from his suitcase and drag it over the grass. 

“So,” Hermes began. “Since you were gone and I had absolutely _nothing_ to do, I actually went out with Dionysus for drinks and let me tell you that was a mistake. But it gave me something to do the next day, which was lay in bed and pray away the sun. I could have gone for one of your breakfasts then. But anyways, Dio says he’s going to tell Zeus about you if I don’t, so I had to kind of sort of tell Zeus I was dating someone and now he’s invited you around to Olympus.” 

Hermes winced and looked up at Charon, but as always, Charon was cool as still waters. 

“When that happens, I didn’t exactly schedule a time, I want you to be on your worst behavior.” 

Charon nodded once with a soft grunt. 

“I mean it,” Hermes said. “Show old Zeus what kind of predator I’ve shackled myself to.” 

That earned Hermes a quick side eye, but dutifully, Charon nodded again. Good boyfriend. 

“Anyways, I might give you a trial by fire,” Hermes said. “Introduce you to Dionysus and or maybe Aphrodite. They’re _arguably_ the worst of my siblings, so if you can handle them you should be fine.” 

Charon let out a soft grunt and forced Hermes to take a turn onto an actual path. He paused to shake out the grass from his suitcase wheels before they continued again. 

“Oh and Nyx called.” 

Charon paused, brow furrowed, forcing Hermes to stumble just a step. 

“She wants to know if you can make it to coffee on Wednesday,” Hermes said. 

“Hhhnnn,” Charon grumbled and leaned over to press his face into the top of Hermes’ head. 

“Need me to come up with an excuse?” 

Charon stood upright again, breathing in slowly. He shook his head and took a step to continue their trek. 

“Need me to come with you?” 

Charon shot him a glance that was neither a yes or a no. Hermes used his skill to fill in quiet spaces quite handily on those awkward visits with Charon’s mother, but sometimes it was for the best that Charon try to make those visits more tolerable on his own. Baby steps. 

Charon still smiled at the offer. 

Hermes leaned in, his own smile much more feral. 

“How was work?” he asked, dropping his voice low. 

Charon’s smile immediately dropped and Hermes cackled. 

Every story of Charon’s job was one part fascinating, another achingly boring. Hermes did not understand the man’s talent for making the sordid business of handling other people’s money in large quantities to sound not just banal but a soft asmr that lulled him to sleep. All Charon had to do was utter the word ‘spreadsheets’ and Hermes was out like a light. 

Hermes had found a way to make him shut up: join the field. 

Hermes’ employment woes were almost solved when he decided to take a role working in the financial playground. Naturally, he lied on his resume to get the job, but he took to it well enough and no one was the wiser. He liked the rush of the floor and the stress of the market. He liked how quickly things turned and how attentive he had to be. He liked that he could use his linguist skills to play in foreign markets. 

He liked having money again. Even just a modest sum. It was enough to pay rent and buy food that wasn’t store brand and shelf stable milk. He could even afford a crappy laptop to take on translation freelance gigs when he was feeling bored. 

It annoyed Charon to no end that Hermes was with a different company. 

Suddenly Charon clammed up about his job, not wanting to slip any insider secrets that he may have picked up. There was the unspoken offer that Charon would have given Hermes a job at his firm, work together side by side, but that kind of nepotistic opportunity was off the table. Charon was still in the habit of spoiling Hermes in little ways, but a hand out like that was too much. 

Besides, Hermes liked poking fun. 

“One day,” Hermes said, meaning so much more. “I’ll get your secrets.” 

Charon huffed in annoyance. 

They had to travel off the path once again, but that time Charon actually lifted his suitcase. They walked up the crest of a small hill under a tree. The ground was littered with leaves, still slightly damp from the rain a couple of days before. Hermes pulled out the blanket from his bed that had been haphazardly stuffed into his bag and he laid it out on the ground. It would get dirty, yes, but it wasn’t like he was going home that night. And Charon had a washer dryer in his apartment. 

The slope of the hill on the other side was littered with other similar scenes. Groups and families and other little dates all spread out on their own blankets or folding lawn chairs or seated directly on the crunchy autumn grass. At the very end of the hill was a large screen that had been pulled wide. Student films from the local college played on every other Friday. That evening’s film was an artsy affair, a black and white attempt at modern noir without the baggage of its predecessors. They were never good, but it was a free date night and Hermes relished in free. 

It wasn’t like they watched most of the movies anyways. 

He and Charon’s dates ranged from cheap to free to shacked up in someone’s apartment. It had taken some finessing to figure out what was acceptable, what pushed Hermes' boundaries too much, where was the happy middle. Something they were still figuring out and getting closer to every day. 

Hermes had finally managed to get Charon into a fast food booth and Charon promptly vowed never again. To which Hermes thought was absolutely hilarious. Charon would sometimes treat Hermes to modest meals at lower end restaurants or cheap dates to museums or matinee movies. All of which was helpful on Hermes’ bank account at the end of the day. 

Hermes had yet to convince Charon to run with him. He probably never would, but it didn’t stop Hermes from trying. 

His favorite dates were when Charon cooked for him. At first glance, the kitchen in Charon’s apartment was spotless and seemed to have never been used. That may have been the truth, but it wasn’t from lack of skill. With someone to actually cook for, Charon proved himself in the kitchen. 

No fancy restaurant could duplicate that kind of attention. 

They settled down on the blanket and Hermes turned to get dinner from his bag, when Charon placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He held up one finger to wait as he dug through his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. 

Hermes gave Charon a flat look. 

"Excuse you?" he said dully, but Charon urged him to take it regardless. 

Hermes had kept the watch because it had been important to him. Even with painful memories tied to it, he kept the obol as well, because it had been important to Charon. Any more jewelry was verboten. 

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Hermes took the box from Charon's hand and opened it without fanfare. 

It was a key. A single silver key. 

Hermes plucked the key from it's velvet bed and dangled it in the air. He tried to maintain his glare, but amusement seeped free. 

"You think you're so clever don't you," he said. 

Charon only stared over his glasses, a soft smile on his face, and waited.

It was more symbolic than anything. Hermes spent more time at Charon's place than his own and they both knew it was a matter of time before he moved in. There was already a drawer of his clothes and a second toothbrush. He'd forgotten his running shoes there more times than he could count. The fridge was more stocked to his tastes than Charon's. After the past week of Hermes complaining through text that he wished he was in Charon's bed instead of his own (if only to absorb the scent of his sheets), it seemed Charon had a spare made. 

Hermes put the key in his keychain. 

With that interruption out of the way, Hermes pulled out their dinner: shitty peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. There was a reason Charon cooked and he didn’t. Charon took the sandwich without complaint and a small nod of his head in thanks and ate it as if it were the best gourmet. 

The sun set and the golden glow of the city faded away. The movie started but that didn’t stop the dull chatter of the crowd and Hermes couldn’t hear it from that distance. He folded up the plastic wrap from their sandwiches and idly played with it in his lap, wrapping it around the base of his flower. It had probably been hours since Charon's last cigarette and with a small prompt, Hermes told Charon it was okay to light up. Part of the reason they were so far back after all. Otherwise, Charon would go without, just for Hermes. 

Hermes scooched in closer to rest his head on Charon’s shoulder and Charon wrapped an arm around him, draping his coat over Hermes’ shoulders, to protect him from the chill. 

“Thanks boss,” Hermes said into Charon’s shirt.

And felt utterly spoiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so y'all know, there is DEFINITELY a scene after they go behind closed doors and I might write it one day >:3
> 
> also, I couldn't fit it into the ending there, but just know Hermes is trying to run professionally again. the point is his life is looking up overall. both of their lives are 💕
> 
> thank you so so so so much from the bottom of my heart for reading this and for all the love it got 💕💕 I did not anticipate my dumb sugar daddy fic to get this much of a reaction and it fills my heart so thank you! 
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)


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